Gods Always Behave Like The People Who

Gods Always Behave Like The People Who Make Them.

My Head Was Full Of Misty Fumes Of Doubt.

It Is So Easy To Be Hopeful In The Daytime When You Can See The Things You Wish On. But It Was Night, It Stayed Night. Night Was Striding Across Nothingness With The Whole Round World In His Hands . . . They Sat In Company With The Others In Other Shanties, Their Eyes Straining Against Cruel Walls And Their Souls Asking If He Meant To Measure Their Puny Might Against His. They Seemed To Be Staring At The Dark, But Their Eyes Were Watching God.

From Barren Brown Stems To Glistening Leaf-buds; From The Leaf-buds To Snowy Virginity Of Bloom…it Was Like A Flute Song Forgotten In Another Existence And Remembered Again. What? How? Why? This Singing She Heard That Had Nothing To Do With Her Ears. The Rose Of The World Was Breathing Out Smell. It Followed Her Through All Her Waking Moments And Caressed Her In Her Sleep.

Every Heart Has Its Graveyard.