The Song Of The Voice

I Said To Life, I Would Hear Death Speak. And Life Raised Her Voice A Little Higher And Said, You Hear Him Now.

And Some Of Your Elders Remember Pleasures With Regret Like Wrongs Committed In Drunkenness. But Regret Is The Beclouding Of The Mind And Not Its Chastisement. They Should Remember Their Pleasures With Gratitude, As They Would The Harvest Of A Summer.

When You Are Sorrowful Look Again In Your Heart, And You Shall See That In Truth You Are Weeping For That Which Has Been Your Delight. Some Of You Say, "joy Is Greater Than Sorrow," And Others Say, "nay, Sorrow Is The Greater." But I Say Unto You, They Are Inseparable. Together They Come, And When One Sits Alone With You At Your Board, Remember That The Other Is Asleep Upon Your Bed. Verily You Are Suspended Like Scales Between Your Sorrow And Your Joy.

Should You Really Open Your Eyes And See, You Would Behold Your Image In All Images. And Should You Open Your Ears And Listen, You Would Hear Your Own Voice In All Voices.

Let Me, O Let Me Bathe My Soul In Colours; Let Me Swallow The Sunset And Drink The Rainbow.