There Is Another Man Within

Life Is A Pure Flame And We Live By An Invisible Sun Within Us.

Sleep Is A Death, O Make Me Try By Sleeping, What It Is To Die, And As Gently Lay My Head On My Grave, As Now My Bed.

Though It Be In The Power Of The Weakest Arm To Take Away Life, It Is Not In The Strongest To Deprive Us Of Death.

As For Those Wingy Mysteries In Divinity, And Airy Subtleties In Religion, Which Have Unhinged The Brains Of Better Heads, They Never Stretched The Pia Mater Of Mine; Methinks There Be Not Impossibilities Enough In Religion For An Active Faith.

The Severe Schools Shall Never Laugh Me Out Of The Philosophy Of Hermes, That This Visible World Is But A Picture Of The Invisible, Wherein As In A Portrait, Things Are Not Truly, But In Equivocal Shapes, And As They Counterfeit Some Real Substance In That Invisible Fabric.