We Need Another And A Wiser And

The Animal Should Not Be Measured By Man. In A World Older Than Ours They Move Finished And Complete, Gifted With Extensions Of The Sense We Have Lost Or Never Attained, Living By Voices We Shall Never Hear.

The Creatures With Whom We Share The Planet And Whom, In Our Arrogance, We Wrongly Patronize For Being Lesser Forms, They Are Not Brethren, They Are Not Underlings, They Are Other Nations, Caught With Ourselves In The Net Of Life And Time, Fellow Prisoners Of The Splendour And Travail Of The Earth.

Our Civilization Has Fallen Out Of Touch With Night. With Lights, We Drive The Holiness And Beauty Of Night Back To The Forests And The Sea; The Little Villages, The Crossroads Even, Will Have None Of It. Are Modern Folk, Perhaps, Afraid Of Night? Do They Fear That Vast Serenity, The Mystery Of Infinite Space, The Austerity Of Stars?

The Seas Are The Hearts Blood Of The Earth. Plucked Up And Kneaded By The Sun And The Moon, The Tides Are Systole And Diastole Of Earth's Veins.

Into Every Empty Corner, Into All Forgotten Things And Nooks, Nature Struggles To Pour Life, Pouring Life Into The Dead, Life Into Life Itself.