There’s No Grandfatherly Fondness In Me, There

Were I As Quiet As Thunder, How I'd Wail And Whine! One Groan Of Mine Would Start The World's Crumbling Cloister Shivering. And If I'd End Up By Roaring With All Of Its Power Of Lungs And More - The Comets, Distressed, Would Wring Their Hands And From The Sky's Roof Leap In A Fever.

On I’ll Pass, Dragging My Huge Love Behind Me. On What Feverish Night, Deliria-ridden, By What Goliaths Was I Begot – I, So Big And By No One Needed?

There’s No Grandfatherly Fondness In Me, There Are No Gray Hairs In My Soul! Shaking The World With My Voice And Grinning, I Pass You By, - Handsome, Twentytwoyearold.

Comrade Life, Let Us March Faster, March Faster Through What's Left Of The Five-year Plan.

Past One O’clock. You Must Have Gone To Bed. The Milky Way Streams Silver Through The Night. I’m In No Hurry; With Lightning Telegrams I Have No Cause To Wake Or Trouble You. And, As They Say, The Incident Is Closed. Love’s Boat Has Smashed Against The Daily Grind. Now You And I Are Quits. Why Bother Then To Balance Mutual Sorrows, Pains, And Hurts. Behold What Quiet Settles On The World. Night Wraps The Sky In Tribute From The Stars. In Hours Like These, One Rises To Address The Ages, History, And All Creation.