I DIVE down into the depth of the ocean of forms, hoping to gain the perfect pearl of the
formless.
No more sailing from harbour to harbour 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 for ever, and, when it has sobbed out its last utterance, lay
down my silent harp at the feet of the silent.
