He Whose First Emotion, On

Separate We Come, And Separate We Go, And This Be It Known, Is All That We Know.

It Is Moonlight. Alone In The Silence I Ascend My Stairs Once More, While Waves Remote In Pale Blue Starlight Crash On A White Sand Shore. It Is Moonlight. The Garden Is Silent. I Stand In My Room Alone. Across My Wall, From The Far-off Moon, A Rain Of Fire Is Thrown. There Are Houses Hanging Above The Stars, And Stars Hung Under The Sea, And A Wind From The Long Blue Vault Of Time Waves My Curtains For Me. I Wait In The Dark Once More, Swung Between Space And Space: Before The Mirror I Lift My Hands And Face My Remembered Face.

It's Time To Make Love, Douse The Glim; The Fireflies Twinkle And Dim; The Stars Lean Together Like Birds Of A Feather, And The Loin Lies Down With The Limb.

I've Tried It Long Ago, With Hashish And Peyote. Fascinating, Yes, But No Good, No. This, As We Find In Alcohol, Is An Escape From Awareness, A Cheat, A Momentary Substitution, And In The End A Destruction Of It.

Forward Into The Untrodden! Courage, Old Man, And Hold On To Your Umbrella!