There's An Expression In Yiddish, Which Is

Not Surprisingly, He Began To Sing, And Because No One In The World Could Hear Him, And He Sang Without Inhibition, He Sang Well.

There Is Justice In The World, Peter Lake, But It Cannot Be Had Without Mystery.

And If You Were A Spirit, And Time Did Not Bind You, And Patience And Love Were All You Knew, Then There You Would Wait For Someone To Return, And The Story To Unfold.

He Knew Very Well That Love Could Be Like The Most Beautiful Singing, That It Could Make Death Inconsequential, That It Existed In Forms So Pure And Strong That It Was Capable Of Reordering The Universe. He Knew This, And That He Lacked It, And Yet As He Stood In The Courtyard Of The Palazzo Venezia, Watching Diplomats File Quietly Out The Gate, He Was Content, For He Suspected That To Command The Profoundest Love Might In The End Be Far Less Beautiful A Thing Than To Suffer Its Absence.

...i Returned To Walking Up The Mountain, And There, In The Dim Asexual Beauty Of Reddening Dawns And Skies That Firmed To Blue, I Discovered My Real And Appropriate Strengths.