On The Day The World Ends A

I Think That I Am Here, On This Earth, To Present A Report On It, But To Whom I Don't Know. As If I Were Sent So That Whatever Takes Place Has Meaning Because It Changes Into Memory.

The Revolt Against One's Environment Is Usually 'shame' Of One's Environment.

Even If That Is So, There Will Remain A Word Wakened By Lips That Perish, A Tireless Messenger Who Runs And Runs Through Interstellar Fields, Through The Revolving Galaxies, And Calls Out, Protests, Screams.

Human Reason Is Beautiful And Invincible. No Bars, No Barbed Wire, No Pulping Of Books, No Sentence Of Banishment Can Prevail Against It. It Puts What Should Be Above Things As They Are. It Does Not Know Jew From Greek Nor Slave From Master.

For A Country Without A Past Is Nothing, A Word That, Hardly Spoken, Loses Its Meaning, A Perishable Wall Destroyed By Flame, An Echo Of Animal Emotions.