The Rapture Of Pursuing Is The Prize

The Low Desire, The Base Design That Makes Another's Virtues Less.

The Smoking Flax Before It Burst To Flame Was Quenched By Death, And Broken The Bruised Reed.

We Are All Architects Of Faith, Ever Living In These Walls Of Time.

The Things That Have Been And Shall Be No More, The Things That Are, And That Hereafter Shall Be, The Things That Might Have Been, And Yet Were Not, The Fading Twilight Of Joys Departed.

I See, But Cannot Reach, The Height That Lies Forever In The Light.