All things feel.
                                                                             Pythagoras

So you alone are blessed with thought, free-thinking man,
In a world where life bursts forth from everything?
You are free to dispose of forces at your command
But the universe is absent from your well-laid plans.

Honor each creature for the mind in which it takes part;
Each flower is a soul turned towards Nature's face;
Each metal hides some ancient mystery of the heart;
"All things feel!" And all you are is within their art.

Beware, even blind walls may spy on you:
Even dumb matter is imbued with voice …
Put not its precious stuff to impious use.

The most obscure of beings may house a hidden god;
And like the new-born eye pouched within its lids,
Pure mind drives its bud through the husk of stones.

                                                             trans. Richard Sieburth