L'art pour l'art ... no one has touched these wastes,
No one has drawn here human shapes.
Inscrutable energies hold for an earth
That seems to exist for life to burst forth.
Its expressions are without context,
Like a voice of pure poetry.
What feelings arise are of absence,
Not any torments of its being.
Rhapsodic winds blow through joshua trees,
The sage shows the sun's constellations.
