I dive down into the depth of the ocean of forms, hoping to gain the perfect pearl of the formless.
 
No more sailing from harbor to harbor with this my weather-beaten boat. The days are long passed when my sport was to be tossed on waves.
 
And now I am eager to die into the deathless.
 
Into the audience hall by the fathomless abyss where swells up the music of toneless strings I shall take this harp of my life.
 
I shall tune it to the notes of forever, and when it has sobbed out its last utterance, lay down my silent harp at the feet of the silent.

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Y. J. Hall
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