One May Not Reach The

When The Earth Shall Claim Your Limbs, Then Shall You Truly Dance.

Some Think I Wink At Them When I Shut My Eyes To Avoid Their Sight.

And When You Were A Silent Word Upon Life's Quivering Lips, I Too Was There, Another Silent Word. Then Life Uttered Us And We Came Down The Years Throbbing With Memories Of Yesterday And With Longing For Tomorrow, For Yesterday Was Death Conquered And Tomorrow Was Birth Pursued.

Your Joy Is Your Sorrow Unmasked. And The Same Well From Which Your Laughter Rises Was Oftentimes Filled With Your Tears. And How Else Can It Be? The Deeper That Sorrow Carves Into Your Being, The More Joy You Can Contain. Is Not The Cup That Holds Your Wine The Very Cup That Was Burned In The Potter's Oven? And Is Not The Lute That Soothes Your Spirit, The Very Wood That Was Hollowed With Knives?

Is Not The Beautiful Moon, That Inspires Poets, The Same Moon Which Angers The Silence Of The Sea With A Terrible Roar?