Were I More Conversant With Literature And

Rather Than Admire The Mediocre Great Men Over Whom Passersby Nudge Each Other In Awe, I Venerate The Young, Unknown Geniuses Who Die In Their Teens, Their Souls Shattered - Delicate, Phosphorescent Glowworms That One Must See To Know They Really Did Exist.

The Other One He Loved Like A Slave, Like A Madman And Like A Beggar. Why? Ask The Dust On The Road And The Falling Leaves, Ask The Mysterious God Of Life; For No One Knows Such Things. She Gave Him Nothing, No Nothing Did She Give Him And Yet He Thanked Her. She Said: Give Me Your Peace And Your Reason! And He Was Only Sorry She Did Not Ask For His Life.

Today Riches And Honours Have Been Lavished On Me, But One Gift Has Been Lacking, The Most Important One Of All, The Only One That Matters, The Gift Of Youth.

And The Great Spirit Of Darkness Spread A Shroud Over Me...everything Was Silent-everything. But Upon The Heights Soughed The Everlasting Song, The Voice Of The Air, The Distant, Toneless Humming Which Is Never Silent.

...i Will Exile My Thoughts If They Think Of You Again, And I Will Rip My Lips Out If They Say Your Name Once More. Now If You Do Exist, I Will Tell You My Final Word In Life Or In Death, I Tell You Goodbye.