The Day Hums Sweetly When

Here Lies A Toppled God. His Fall Was Not A Small One. We Did But Build His Pedestal, A Narrow And A Tall One.

I Cry For Those Not Yet Dead.

Reason Is The First Victim Of Strong Emotion.

Most Lives Are A Flight From Selfhood. Most Prefer The Truths Of The Stable. You Stick Your Head Into The Stanchions And Munch Contentedly Until You Die. Others Use You For Their Purposes. Not Once Do You Look Outside The Stable To Lift Your Head And Be Your Own Creature.

A Voice Hissed: "he Sheds Tears!" It Was Taken Around The Ring "usal Gives Moisture To The Dead!" He Felt Fingers Touch His Damp Cheek, Heard The Awed Whispers.