Does not the nightingale's sweet song set our hearts alight
Bestowing his kiss of solace upon the solitude of the night
He doesn't sing; the vastitude of the ebony veil belongs to me
Nor does he sing of possessing the verdure of the old oak tree
Maybe he sings to ignite the flame of passion within her breast
His song doesn't fade with age or the onset of death
How can words touch upon the euphony of love's serenade
The perfection of God's Creation is experienced, rather than portrayed
Thus unto the song of the nightingale, my heart humbly prayed...
Out of compassion, the nightingale sang unto me---
"The most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or touched
They must be felt with the heart
Awaken unto the pure consciousness of the Complete Being within
Let the Spirit of beauty shine forth as the true fountain of life
Then thou shalt coalesce with the uplands of thy desire
The eternal flame burns brightly within thy soul
True Holiness is to return unto The Whole"...