I found this beautiful

 George William Russell (1867–1935), an Irish writer who described his mystical experiences
under the pen name “AE,” was lying on a hillside:
not then thinking of anything but the sunlight, and how sweet it was to drowse
there, when, suddenly, I felt a fiery heart throb, and knew it was personal and
intimate, and started with every sense dilated and intent, and turned inwards, and
I heard first a music as of bells going away . . . and then the heart of the hills was
opened to me, and I knew there was no hill for those who were there, and they
were unconscious of the ponderous mountain piled above the palaces of light, and
the winds were sparkling and diamond clear, yet full of colour as an opal, as they
glittered through the valley, and I knew the Golden Age was all about me, and it
was we who had been blind to it but that it had never passed away from the
world.

From :Living Religions, Sixth Edition, by Mary Pat Fisher. Published by Prentice-Hall. Copyright © 2005 by Pearson Education, Inc.