How Terrible The Need For

I Lose And Find Myself In The Long Water. I Am Gathered Together Once More.

The Mind Enters Itself, And God The Mind, And One Is One, Free In The Tearing Wind.

Fear Was My Father, Father Fear. His Look Drained The Stones.

Nothing Would Give Up Life: Even The Dirt Keeps Breathing A Small Breath.

Being, Not Doing, Is My First Joy.