The Creator Gives No Heed To The

The Thirst Of Soul Is Sweeter Than The Wine Of Material Things, And The Fear Of Spirit Is Dearer Than The Security Of The Body.

The Human Heart Cries Out For Help; The Human Soul Implores Us For Deliverance; But We Do Not Heed Their Cries, For We Neither Hear Nor Understand. But The Man Who Hears And Understands We Call Mad, And Flee From Him. Thus The Nights Pass, And We Live In Unawareness; And The Days Greet Us And Embrace Us. But We Live In Constant Dread Of Day And Night.

And If You Sing Though As Angels, And Love Not The Singing, You Muffle Man's Ears To The Voices Of The Day And The Voices Of The Night.

All These Things Shall Love Do Unto You That You May Know The Secrets Of Your Heart, And In That Knowledge Become A Fragment Of Life's Heart.

For The Sight Of The Angry Weather Saddens My Soul And The Sight Of The Town, Sitting Like A Bereaved Mother Beneath Layers Of Ice, Oppresses My Heart.