And I in a concrete room above the abandonedlabyrinth of Palenque measuring my fate,wandering solitary in the wild –blinking singlemindedat a bleak idea– until exhausted withits action and contemplation my soul might shatterat one primal moment’s sensation of the vastmovement of divinity.As I leaned against a tree inside a forestexpiring of self-begotten love,I looked up at the stars absently, as if looking forsomething else in the blue night through the boughs,and for a moment saw myself leaning against a tree . . .
― Allen Ginsberg
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