I'll Meet The Raging Of The Skies,

The Being Level Speaks The Language Of Art, Music, Color Shape And Pattern Directly -- A Language That Requires No Words -- Is Not Limited By Words -- Nor Does It Have The Specificity Of Words And Thus Cannot Be Broken Onto Parts That Can Be Manipulated Or Analyzed By The Intellect. It Must Be Swallowed, Whole Not Parsed, Sorted And Justified.

For There No Yew Nor Cypress Spread Their Glom But Roses Blossom'd Each Rustic Tomb.

Without The Smile From Partial Beauty Won, O What Were Man? - A World Without A Sun.

The Proud, The Cold Untroubled Heart Of Stone, That Never Mused On Sorrow But Its Own.

His Faithful Dog Salutes The Smiling Guest.