The Hiss Was Now Becoming A Roar

Should I Not Hear, As I Lie Down In Dust, The Horns Of Glory Blowing Above My Burial?

One Is Least Sure Of One's Self, Sometimes, When One Is Most Positive.

The One You Love Leans Forward, Smiles, Deceives You, Opens A Door Through Which You See Dark Dreams.

Music I Heard With You Was More Than Music, And Bread I Broke With You Was More Than Bread. Now That I Am Without You, All Is Desolate, All That Was Once So Beautiful Is Dead. Your Hands Once Touched This Table And This Silver,and I Have Seen Your Fingers Hold This Glass. These Things Do Not Remember You, Beloved: And Yet Your Touch Upon Them Will Not Pass. For It Was In My Heart You Moved Among Them,and Blessed Them With Your Hands And With Your Eyes.and In My Heart They Will Remember Always: They Knew You Once, O Beautiful And Wise!

Death Is One Dream Out Of Another Flowing.