Only After I've Seen The

Whoever Climbed The Lord's Mountain Had To Possess Clean Hands And An Innocent Heart; Otherwise The Summit Would Kill Him. Today The Doorway Is Deserted. Soiled Hands And Sinful Hearts Are Able To Pass By Without Fear, For The Summit Kills No Longer.

I Said Only One Word, Brought Only One Message: Love. Love - Nothing Else.

I Should Learn To Run, To Wrestle, To Swim, To Ride Horses, To Row, To Drive A Car, To Fire A Rifle. I Should Fill My Soul With Flesh. I Should Fill My Flesh With Soul. In Fact, I Should Reconcile At Last Within Me The Two Internal Antagonists.

Free Yourself From One Passion To Be Dominated By Another And Nobler One. But Is Not That, Too, A Form Of Slavery? To Sacrifice Oneself To An Idea, To A Race, To God? Or Does It Mean That The Higher The Model The Longer The Longer The Tether Of Our Slavery?

Death's Dry Bones Glowed With Light In The Erotic Dark But He Woke Not Nor Felt The Two Warm Bodies Merge; The Male Worm Then Took Heart And In His Wife's Ear Whispered: "with One Sweet Kiss, Dear Wife, We've Conquered Conquering Death!