The Train Came Out Of The Long

Put Your Soul In The Palm Of My Hand For Me To Look At, Like A Crystal Jewel. I'll Sketch It In Words.

But, Drawn To Her At That Moment, He Felt A Quiet Like The Voice Of The Rain Flow Over Him. He Knew Well Enough That For Her It Was In Fact No Waste Of Effort, But Somehow The Final Determination That It Was Had The Effect Of Distilling And Purifying The Woman's Existence.

They Were Words That Came Out Of Nothing, But They Seemed To Him Somehow Significant. He Muttered Them Over Again.

Now, Even More Than The Evening Before, He Could Think Of No One With Whom To Compare Her. She Had Become Absolute, Beyond Comparison. She Had Become Decision And Fate.

The Winter Moon Becomes A Companion, The Heart Of The Priest, Sunk In Meditation Upon Religion And Philosophy, There In The Mountain Hall, Is Engaged In A Delicate Interplay And Exchange With The Moon; And It Is This Of Which The Poet Sings.