My flesh will be silent. How will I then look upon my evils when I think of them? Like the vine that grows to the vault of eternity my thoughts will be upon my evils. The golden river shall speak with me and I shall hope it will forgive me. What pride will I have if the strength of my body is nothing? I will not boast in beauty or strength. What valor shall I possess as I look upon the face of oblivion? What strange vision will I find in the depths of my heart? And how will I ever find the words to say goodbye? As the piano shows the image of love so will my eyes show the sound of my leaving. As the soft rain patters with the heart of freedom so will my eyes look with a final love. Where does one find the courage to leave? What is the last vision which is placed in the summit of our wisdom? What is the sound which paints the sky? And which is the echo which finds beauty in remembering?