I am not touched by wind nor cold
I am not young; I am not old.
I dwell within these walls of gold:
The great fortress of Spirit.
Wherever else I seem to be,
A mountain high--or by the sea,
I am not fooled by scenery;
For I am still in Spirit.
Though matter's mortal forms deny
The reign of Spirit to my eye,
Immortal sense is heard to cry,
"The only realm is Spirit."
Thus, daily grows this truer sense
Of Spirit's grand omnipotence,
And all creation dwelling hence,
Whose substance all is Spirit.