The Tides Are In Our Veins.

You Making Haste On Decay: Not Blameworthy; Life Is Good, Be It Stubbornly Long Or Suddenly A Mortal Splendor: Meteors Are Not Needed Less Than Mountains: Shine, Perishing Republic.

Death's A Fierce Meadowlark: But To Die Having Made / Something More Equal To The Centuries / Than Muscle And Bone, Is Mostly To Shed Weakness.

Humanity Is The Start Of The Race; I Say Humanity Is The Mould To Break Away From, The Crust To Break Through, The Coal To Break Into Fire, The Atom To Be Split.

Justice And Mercy/ Are Human Dreams, They Do Not Concern The Birds Nor The Fish Nor Eternal God.

I Have Seen These Ways Of God: I Know Of No Reason For Fire And Change And Torture And The Old Returnings.