When Life Does Not Find A Singer

For What Is It To Die But To Stand Naked In The Wind And To Melt Into The Sun? And When The Earth Shall Claim Your Limbs, Then Shall You Truly Dance.

All That Spirits Desire, Spirits Attain.

There Are Those Who Give With Joy, And That Joy Is Their Reward. And There Are Those Who Give With Pain, And That Pain Is Their Baptism. And There Are Those Who Give And Know Not Pain In Giving, Nor Do They Seek Joy, Nor Give With Mindfulness Of Virtue; They Give As In Yonder Valley The Myrtle Breathes Its Fragrance Into Space. Through The Hands Of Such As These God Speaks, And From Behind Their Eyes He Smiles Upon The Earth.

The Wolves Prey Upon The Lambs In The Darkness Of The Night, But The Blood Stains Remain Upon The Stones In The Valley Until The Dawn Comes, And The Sun Reveals The Crime To All.

The Tears That You Spill, The Sorrowful, Are Sweeter Than The Laughter Of Snobs And The Guffaws Of Scoffers.