Your Saying 'i Do Not Understand You'

The Truly Good Is He Who Is One With All Those Who Are Deemed Bad.

For That Which Is Boundless In You Abides In The Mansion Of The Sky, Whose Door Is The Morning Mist, And Whose Windows Are The Songs And The Silences Of Night.

We Fear Death, Yet We Long For Slumber And Beautiful Dreams.

The Mute Grain Turns To Love Songs When Swallowed By The Nightingale.

For In Truth It Is Life That Gives Unto Life-while You, Who Deem Yourself A Giver, Are But A Witness.