But If, As Morning Rises, Dreams Are

Because There Is No Man Who Can Be True And Just Judge Of Himself, So Much Will Self-love Deceive Him.

The Heavens Call To You, And Circle About You, Displaying To You Their Eternal Splendors, And Your Eye Gazes Only To Earth.

A Rapid Bolt Will Rend The Clouds Apart, And Every Single White Be Seared By Wounds. I Tell You This. I Want It All To Hurt.

When We Encountered A Band Of Souls Coming Along The Barrier, And Each Was Gazing At Us In The Evening People Gaze At One Another Under The New Moon

Your Fame Is As The Grass, Whose Hue Comes And Goes, And His Might Withers It By Whose Power It Sprang From The Lap Of The Earth.