The Secret Of Secrets Is Inside Me

The Secret Of Secrets Is Inside Me Again.

Your Voice Is Wild And Simple. You Are Untranslatable Into Any One Tongue.

Natural Thunder Heralds The Wetness Of Fresh Water High Clouds To Quench The Thirst Of Fields Gone Dry And Parched, A Messenger Of Blessed Rain, But This Was As Dry As Hell Must Be. My Distraught Perception Refused To Believe It, Because Of The Insane Suddenness With Which It Sounded, Swelled And Hit, And How Casually It Came To Murder My Child.

Rising From The Past, My Shadow Is Running In Silence To Meet Me.

As The Future Ripens In The Past, So The Past Rots In The Future -- A Terrible Festival Of Dead Leaves.