Classic Poem

Then what is He, the Being you revere,
The Not-Yourself that makes for Righteousness?
What is He more than superstitious guess
Of priest or poet? Conscience, Guilt, or Fear,
May not God be? Totem or Idol mere?
Delirium of reason? Storm and stress
Of blind emotion? How can worship bless?
I asked my kneeling soul, with skeptic sneer.
She gave me answer: Even as the fire
Ascends by its own nature, so I burn
Upward to the Celestial. I aspire,
And oft, in rapturous devotion, learn
What Self-Creation means! and my desire,
So beatific, seems my prayer's return.