If The Spiritual Universe And The Way

When Someone Mentions The Gracefulness Of The Night Sky, Climb Up On The Roof And Dance And Say, Like This?

I Was A Tiny Bug. Now A Mountain. I Was Left Behind. Now Honored At The Head. You Healed My Wounded Hunger And Anger, And Made Me A Poet Who Sings About Joy.

Let's Ask God To Help Us To Self-control For One Who Lacks It, Lacks His Grace.

In Fact, My Soul And Yours Are The Same, You Appear In Me, I In You.

A Mountain Keeps An Echo Deep Inside Itself. That's How I Hold Your Voice.