Our Language Is Primarily For Expressing Human

Put Your Soul In The Palm Of My Hand For Me To Look At, Like A Crystal Jewel. I'll Sketch It In Words.

The Sound Of The Freezing Of Snow Over The Land Seemed To Roar Deep Into The Earth. There Was No Moon. The Stars, Almost Too Many Of Them To Be True, Came Forward So Brightly That It Was As If They Were Falling With The Swiftness Of The Void. As The Stars Came Nearer, The Sky Retreated Deeper And Deeper Into The Night Color. The Layers Of The Border Range, Indistinguishable One From Another, Cast Their Heaviness At The Skirt Of The Starry Sky In A Blackness Grave And Somber Enough To Communicate Their Mass. The Whole Of The Night Scene Came Together In A Clear, Tranquil Harmony.

The Snow On The Distant Mountains Was Soft And Creamy, As If Veiled In A Faint Smoke.

Seeing The Moon, He Becomes The Moon, The Moon Seen By Him Becomes Him. He Sinks Into Nature, Becomes One With Nature. The Light Of The "clear Heart" Of The Priest, Seated In The Meditation Hall In The Darkness Before The Dawn, Becomes For The Dawn Moon Its Own Light.

People Have Separated From Each Other With Walls Of Concrete That Blocked The Roads To Connection And Love. And Nature Has Been Defeated In The Name Of Development.