L
In being is heaven, in paradox, hell;
for those who are sick,and those who are well.
Admiring the songs of death and rebirth,
how much we cannot grasp, how much life is worth.
Oh how universal a glance or a sigh,
and still even more, a tear in an eye.
Perhaps the more hidden the latter remains,
yet how universal our joy and our pain.
If songs of the Promised land ever should cease,
how many would find their vocation to weep.
Perhaps we are foolish, poor and in need,
though every great oak once began as a seed.
for those who are sick,and those who are well.
Admiring the songs of death and rebirth,
how much we cannot grasp, how much life is worth.
Oh how universal a glance or a sigh,
and still even more, a tear in an eye.
Perhaps the more hidden the latter remains,
yet how universal our joy and our pain.
If songs of the Promised land ever should cease,
how many would find their vocation to weep.
Perhaps we are foolish, poor and in need,
though every great oak once began as a seed.