Art Is The Tree Of Life. Science

I Give You The End Of A Golden String, Only Wind It Into A Ball, It Will Lead You In At Heaven's Gate Built In Jerusalem's Wall.

Like A Fiend In A Cloud, With Howling Woe, After Night I Do Crowd, And With Night Will Go; I Turn My Back To The East, From Whence Comforts Have Increased; For Light Doth Seize My Brain With Frantic Pain.

When The Voices Of Children Are Heard On The Greenand Laughing Is Heard On The Hill,my Heart Is At Rest Within My Breastand Everything Else Is Still.

Time Is The Mercy Of Eternity

I See The Past, Present & Future Existing All At Once Before Me.