Artistic inevitability lies in the complete adequacy of the external to the emotion.

The dove descending breaks the air With flame of incandescent terror Of which the tongues declare The one discharge from sin and error. The only hope, or else despair Lies in the choice of pyre or pyre- To be redeemed from fire by fire. Who then devised the torment? Love. Love is the unfamiliar Name Behind the hands that wove The intolerable shirt of flame Which human power cannot remove. We only live, only suspire Consumed by either fire or fire.

To each individual the world will take on a different connotation of meaning-the important lies in the desire to search for an answer.

Between the vision and the act lies the shadow.

O father, father Gone from us, lost to us, The church lies bereft, Alone, Desecrated, desolated. And the heathen shall build On the ruins Their world without God. I see it. I see it.

The only hope, or else despair Lies in the choice of pyre or pyre - To be redeemed from fire by fire.