If The Infinite Had No Me, Then

Woman, Nude, Is The Blue Sky. Clouds And Garments Are An Obstacle To Contemplation. Beauty And Infinity Would Be Gazed Upon Unveiled.

Men Are Still Men. The Despot's Wickedness Comes Of Ill Teaching, And Of Power's Excess,-- Comes Of The Purple He From Childhood Wears, Slaves Would Be Tyrants If The Chance Were Theirs.

Our Life Dreams The Utopia. Our Death Achieves The Ideal.

Love Partakes Of The Soul Itself. It Is Of The Same Nature. Like It, It Is A Divine Spark, Like It, It Is Incorruptible, Indivisible, Imperishable, It Is The Point Of Fire Which Is Within Us, Which Is Immortal And Infinite, Which Nothing Can Limit And Nothing Can Extinguish.

Should We Continue To Look Upwards? Is The Light We Can See In The Sky One Of Those Which Will Presently Be Extinguished? The Ideal Is Terrifying To Behold... Brilliant But Threatened On All Sides By The Dark Forces That Surround It: Nevertheless, No More In Danger Than A Star In The Jaws Of The Clouds.