So I Be Written In The Book

And That Inverted Bowl They Call The Sky, Whereunder Crawling Cooped We Live And Die, Lift Not Your Hands To It For Help-for It As Impotently Moves As You Or I

Why Ponder Thus The Future To Foresee, And Jade Thy Brain To Vain Perplexity? Cast Off Thy Care, Leave Allah’s Plans To Him – He Formed Them All Without Consulting Thee.

You Know, My Friends, With What A Brave Carouse I Made A Second Marriage In My House; Favored Old Barren Reason From My Bed, And Took The Daughter Of The Vine To Spouse.

In Monasteries, Seminaries, Retreats And Synagogues, They Fear Hell And Seek Paradise. Those Who Know The Mysteries Of God Never Let That Seed Be Planted In Their Souls.

Hearts Are Like Tapers, Which At Beauteous Eyes Kindle A Flame Of Love That Never Dies; And Beauty Is A Flame, Where Hearts, Like Moths, Offer Themselves A Burning Sacrifice.