by Peter Saint-Andre

Awakening to life,
I'm patiently immersed
In morning mystery
Of what I might create.
A spiral path I seek,
Where I can rise and turn.

I plant a morning seed
Of hopes that I have nursed.
Although my spirit's free,
Afresh I must begin.
I banish all that's weak,
All worry and concern.

A sacred Yes to life
I say, and make my own.
The life that I enact,
The height I consecrate,
Is what at root impels
The joys of every goal.

A true and healthy need
I sound in every tone;
I come to know and act
By what is best within.
My highest will compels
A law inside my soul.

(cf. Thus Spoke Zarathustra, "Zarathustra's Prologue", "Of the Three Metamorphoses", "Of the Despisers of the Body", "Of the Tree on the Mountainside", "Of the Way of the Creator", "Of the Higher Man")

Peter Saint-Andre > Writings > Nietzsche