(printed carefully in gold ink on a light blue parchment)
"Immortality"
We must pass like smoke or live within
the spirit's fire,
For we can no more than smoke unto
the flame return,
If our thoughts have changed to dream or
will unto desire.
As smoke we vanish though the fire
may burn.
Lights of infinite pity star the grey dusk
of our days:
Surely here is soul; with it we have
eternal breath:
In the fire of love we live or pass
by many ways,
By unnumbered ways of dream to death.
"Go out on the limb - that's where the fruit is." Will Rogers
