Lowly, With A Broken Neck, The Crocus

Speech Is The Small Change Of Silence.

When I Was Quite A Boy I Had A Spasm Of Religion Which Lasted Six Weeks... But I Never Since Have Swallowed The Christian Fable.

Earth, The Mother Of All, Moves On Her Stedfast Way, Gathering, Flinging, Sowing. Mortals, We Live In Her Day, She In Her Children Is Growing.

The Song Seraphically Free Of Taint Of Personality, So Pure That It Salutes The Suns The Voice Of One For Millions, In Whom The Millions Rejoice For Giving Their One Spirit Voice.

A Human Act Once Set In Motion Flows On Forever To The Great Account. Our Deathlessness Is In What We Do, Not In What We Are.