A Man Screaming Is Not A Dancing

And Let Me Die Suddenly, To Be Born Again In The Revelation Of Beauty....and The Revelation Of Beauty Is The Wisdom Of The Ancestors.

It Is No Use Painting The Foot Of The Tree White, The Strength Of The Bark Cries Out From Beneath The Paint.

Poetic Knowledge Is Born In The Great Silence Of Scientific Knowledge.

In The Whole World No Poor Devil Is Lynched, No Wretch Is Tortured, In Whom I Too Am Not Degraded And Murdered.

Beware, My Body And My Soul, Beware Above All Of Crossing Your Arms And Assuming The Sterile Attitude Of The Spectator, For Life Is Not A Spectacle, A Sea Of Griefs Is Not A Proscenium, And A Man Who Wails Is Not A Dancing Bear.