Oh, The Brave Music Of A Distant

The Thoughtful Soul To Solitude Retires.

And This I Know; Whether The One True Light Kindle To Love, Or Wrath Consume Me Quite, One Flash Of It Within The Tavern Caught Better Than In The Temple Lost Outright.

Why Ponder Thus The Future To Foresee, And Jade Thy Brain To Vain Perplexity? Cast Off Thy Care, Leave Allah’s Plans To Him – He Formed Them All Without Consulting Thee.

I Can’t Reveal The Mystery To Either Saint Or Sinner; I Can’t State At Length What I’ve Said Curtly; I Achieve An Altered State That I Can’t Explain; I Have A Secret That I Cannot Share.

So When That Angel Of The Darker Drink, At Last Shall Find You By The River-brink, And, Offering His Cup, Invite Your Soul Forth To Your Lips To Quaff-you Shall Not Shrink.