There Is A Sacred, Secret Line In

Hands, Matches, An Ashtray. A Ritual Beautiful And Bitter.

Today I Have So Much To Do: I Must Kill Memory Once And For All, I Must Turn My Soul To Stone, I Must Learn To Live Again. Unless ... Summer's Ardent Rustling Is Like A Festival Outside My Window.

Sweet To Me Was Not The Voice Of Man, But The Wind's Voice Was Understood By Me. The Burdocks And The Nettles Fed My Soul, But I Loved The Silver Willow Best Of All.

Mary Magdalene Beat Her Breasts And Sobbed, His Dear Disciple, Stone-faced, Stared. His Mother Stood Apart. No Other Looked Into Her Secret Eyes. Nobody Dared.

This Cruel Age Has Deflected Me, Like A River From This Course. Strayed From Its Familiar Shores, My Changeling Life Has Flowed Into A Sister Channel. How Many Spectacles I've Missed: The Curtain Rising Without Me, And Falling Too. How Many Friends I Never Had The Chance To Meet.