Lord, I have loved Your sky,Be it said against or for me,Have loved it clear and high,Or low and stormy.

Alas, why are my nights all thus lost? Ah, why do I ever miss his sight whose breath touches my sleep?

I would rather be stricken blind than to live without expression of mind.

Sometimes, when I'm alone, I cry, 'cause I am on my own. The tears I cry are bitter and warm. They flow with life, but take no form. I cry because my heart is torn. I find it difficult to carry on. If I had an ear to confide in, I would cry among my treasured friends, but who do you know that stops that long, to help another carry on?

I exist in the depths of solitude pondering my true goal. Trying to find peace of mind and still preserve my soul.

When my heart can beat no more, I hope I die for a principle or a belief that I have lived for.