He Is Strong And Pain

Humanity Is The Start Of The Race; I Say Humanity Is The Mould To Break Away From, The Crust To Break Through, The Coal To Break Into Fire, The Atom To Be Split.

Shiva... Is The Only Hunter That Will Ever Catch The Wild Swan; The Prey She Will Take Last Is The Wild White Swan Of The Beauty Of Things. Then She Will Be Alone, Pure Destruction, Achieved And Supreme, Empty Darkness Under The Death-tent Wings. She Will Build A Nest Of The Swan's Bones And Hatch A New Brood, Hang New Heavens With New Birds, All Be Renewed.

O That Our Souls Could Scale A Height Like This, A Mighty Mountain Swept O'er By The Bleak Keen Winds Of Heaven; And, Standing On That Peak Above The Blinding Clouds Of Prejudice, Would We Could See All Truly As It Is; The Calm Eternal Truth Would Keep Us Meek.

It Seems To Me That This Whole Alone Is Worthy Of The Deeper Sort Of Love; And That There Is Peace, Freedom, I Might Say A Kind Of Salvation, In Turning One's Affections Outward Toward This One God, Rather Than Inwards On One's Self, Or On Humanity, Or On Human Imaginations And Abstractions - The World Of The Spirits.

Know That However Ugly The Parts Appear The Whole Remains Beautiful.