Let Your Heart Look On White Sea

We Live In The Time Of The Colossal Upright Oblong.

Poetry Is A Theorem Of A Yellow-silk Handkerchief Knotted With Riddles, Sealed In A Balloon Tied To The Tail Of A Kite Flying In A White Wind Against A Blue Sky In Spring.

Under The Harvest Moon, When The Soft Silver Drips Shimmering Over The Garden Nights, Death, The Gray Mocker, Comes And Whispers To You As A Beautiful Friend Who Remembers.

The Dead Hold In Their Hands Only What They Have Given Away.

The People Will Live On.the Learning And Blundering People Will Live On.