I must, first, worship in my own temples: A poem 

I just think of Spica, how she rolls 

into the morning sky, like a bright 

princess; And I am torn between my  

obligations to others, and duties to 

myself. It doesn’t inflame my  

desperation, but lights up my sublimity 

But I must feel love for my own earth 

gifted to me by Virgo, and as much love 

the Agni that was caused to flourish in   

my spirit by Sagittarius. Because, I am potent clay 

baked by invincible flame. There is no 

wandering as gratiating as the wandering 

within oneself. That one, then, can call up all 

the icons of one’s love and enshrine them  

within oneself. That I am righteous,  

without turning Left. And I have learnt that devotion,  

first and primarily, in my own temples.