At nine or ten, when just a boy,
I taught myself ecstatic joy.
Alone in field, by trees so tall,
I felt my pleasure, knew my all.
The birds sang sweet, the sun shone strong,
My body an intense glad song,
And all the sky seemed ringing loud
For solo me, alive and proud.
Yet this was sin, or so I’d heard—
To me a foreign, empty word.
It was my secret; none would know
That I was star of my own show.
Of my own life I was my light,
My sun of day, my moon of night,
My radiant glory crowning me
With greatest love to breathe and be.
I knew my tool was wholly mine
To drive me to my joy divine!

It wasn’t sin, can never be;
Who says it is, is one not free,
But chained to fear of fearing men
Who to themselves are chained again
With selfless mind of death-linked thought
That follows blind what e’er they’re taught,
Denying that the standard true
Is your own joy in life of you.
The standard false that men pretend
Is life in death that has no end.
It leads them on till each is dead
With emptiness inside each head;
And all for guilt and all for pain,
Pretending loss is somehow gain.

But I, I’m sinless; I am free
To be the being Joy that’s me,
Who lives to live, who loves to shine—
The starry self that’s always mine!
At nine or ten, when just a boy,
I taught myself ecstatic joy!