I Seem To Myself, As

Now No One Will Listen To Songs. The Prophesied Days Have Begun. Latest Poem Of Mine, The World Has Lost Its Wonder, Don't Break My Heart, Don't Ring Out.

I Am In The Middle Of It: Chaos And Poetry; Poetry And Love And Again, Complete Chaos. Pain, Disorder, Occasional Clarity; And At The Bottom Of It All: Only Love; Poetry. Sheer Enchantment, Fear, Humiliation. It All Comes With Love

This Land, Although Not My Native Land, Will Be Remembered Forever. And The Sea's Lightly Iced, Unsalty Water. The Sand On The Bottom Is Whiter Than Chalk, The Air Is Heady, Like Wine, And The Rosy Body Of The Pines Is Naked In The Sunset Hour. And The Sunset Itself On Such Waves Of Ether That I Just Can't Comprehend Whether It Is The End Of The Day, The End Of The World, Or The Mystery Of Mysteries In Me Again.

... He Is Rewarded With A Form Of Eternal Childhood, With The Bounty And Vigilance Of The Stars, The Whole World Was His Inheritance And He Shared It With Everyone.

If I Can't Have Love, If I Can't Find Peace, / Give Me A Bitter Glory.