You May Chain My Hands, You May

No Man Can Reveal To You Nothing But That Which Already Lies Half-asleep In The Dawning Of Your Knowledge.

Cover Me With Soft Earth, And Let Each Handful Be Mixed With Seeds Ofjasmine, Lilies, And Myrtle; And When They Grow Above Me And Thrive On My Body's Element They Will Breathe The Fragrance Of My Heart Into Space.

It Is Not The Sap Within The Furrowed Bark, Nor A Wing Attached To A Claw, But Rather A Garden Forever In Bloom And A Flock Of Angels Forever In Flight.

Remembrance Is A Form Of Meeting.

Those To Whom Worshiping Is A Window, To Open But Also To Shut, Have Not Yet Visited The House Of Their Souls Whose Windows Are Open From Dawn To Dawn.