What Happiness This Is: To Fly, Skimming

I Say One Thing, You Write Another, And Those Who Read You Understand Still Something Else! I Say: Cross, Death, Kingdom Of Heaven, God...and What Do You Understand? Each Of You Attaches His Own Suffering, Interests And Desires To Each Of These Sacred Words, And My Words Disappear, My Soul Is Lost. I Can't Stand It Any Longer!

I Felt This Was My Duty, My Sole Duty: To Reconcile The Irreconcilables, To Draw The Thick Ancestral Darkness Out Of My Loins And Transform It, To The Best Of My Ability, Into Light.

The Truth Is That We All Are One, That All Of Us Together Create God, That God Is Not Man's Ancestor, But His Descendant.

Thus Night With All Her Snares Passed Through The Upper World And Baited All Heads Sweetly, Fed All Foolish Hopes, For Night Can Bring To Men All Shrewish Day Denies, Wrapped As A Gift In The Green Leaves Of Opiate Dream.

God Is Action, Complete With Mistakes, Fumblings, Persistence, Agony. God Is Not The Power That Has Found Eternal Equilibrium, But The Power That Is Forever Breaking Every Equilibrium, Forever Searching For A Higher One.