Is it a phantasm, the thing that vanishes when grasped?
Do the voices of others' hearts drum up the fantasy?
Here the paradox:
Temet nosce cannot be ignored
Yet fain would its call be answered.

I name myself and find
Another on my lips or heart
Here the intersection:
Desire and desire -- both true,
Yet not the same.

Their nearness makes me fear;
Their goodness will not let me forget.
And here the question:
Who will dare to tread the inner Sanctuary,
But who can turn away?