Who Hail Thee, Man! The Pilgrim Of

Without The Smile From Partial Beauty Won, O What Were Man? - A World Without A Sun.

Triumphal Arch, That Fill'st The Sky When Storms Prepare To Part, I Ask Not Proud Philosophy To Teach Me What Thou Art.

I'll Meet The Raging Of The Skies, But Not An Angry Father.

Ye Are Brothers! Ye Are Men! And We Conquer But To Save.

The Being Level Speaks The Language Of Art, Music, Color Shape And Pattern Directly -- A Language That Requires No Words -- Is Not Limited By Words -- Nor Does It Have The Specificity Of Words And Thus Cannot Be Broken Onto Parts That Can Be Manipulated Or Analyzed By The Intellect. It Must Be Swallowed, Whole Not Parsed, Sorted And Justified.