Even While The Earth Sleeps We Travel.

For What Is It To Die But To Stand Naked In The Wind And To Melt Into The Sun? And When The Earth Shall Claim Your Limbs, Then Shall You Truly Dance.

If It's A Despot You Would Dethrone, See First That His Throne Erected Within You Is Destroyed.

Trees Are Poems The Earth Writes Upon The Sky, We Fell Them Down And Turn Them Into Paper, That We May Record Our Emptiness.

For Thought Is A Bird Of Space, That In A Cage Of Words May Indeed Unfold Its Wings But Cannot Fly.

Our God, Who Art Our Winged Self, It Is Thy Will In Us That Willeth. It Is Thy Desire In Us That Desireth. It Is Thy Urge In Us That Would Turn Our Nights, Which Are Thine, Into Days Which Are Thine Also. We Cannot Ask Thee For Aught, For Thou Knowest Our Needs Before They Are Born In Us: Thou Art Our Need; And In Giving Us More Of Thyself Thou Givest Us All.