Rescue The Dead

Finally, to forgo love is to kiss a leaf, is to let rain fall nakedly upon your head, is to respect fire, is to study man's eyes and his gestures as he talks, is to set bread upon the table and a knife discreetly by, is to pass through crowds like a crowd of oneself. Not to love is to live. To love is to be led away into a forest where the secret grave is dug, singing, praising darkness under the trees. To live is to sign your name, is to ignore the dead, is to carry a wallet and shake hands. To love is to be a fish. My boat wallows in the sea. You who are free, rescue the dead.