Charles Erskine Scott Wood

“ I will go out from the Desert while yet I am. I will cast off my fetters and even in rags I will, like a street singer, sing my song. I will sing my song of meditation and defiance ; But even as I go I look back and see the Desert smiling
scornfully. I hear her mocking whisper.
Only Man has enforced his brother;
Only Man has compelled servitude.
Only Man has dwarfed his own godhood, cherished
Poverty and exalted Ugliness. Only Man has defied Nature and set up the idols of his
ignorance. He has denied Freedom and Beauty. ”

“ The flowers bloom in the Desert joyously. They do not weary themselves with questioning ; They are careless whether they be seen, or praised. They blossom unto life perfectly and unto death perfectly,
leaving nothing unsaid. They spread a voluptuous carpet for the feet of the Wind And to the frolic Breezes which overleap them, they
whisper: "Stay a moment. Brother ; plunder us of our passion ; "Our day is short, but our beauty is eternal." ”

“ Oppressors. Neither the freedom of the primal struggle, Nor the freedom of the ultimate peace. Society, a hoofed monster, trampling to death the race. Truth, dweller in the starry places, More elusive than moonlight upon the sea, tremulous. Let me behold your brow which is vague as night, infinite. Let me look into your eyes which are deeper than the
skies of this Desert.
Where are you. Truth, where are you?
Shadowy, appearing, disappearing, ever retreating.
As the mirage of the Desert which lures to the glittering
Death-spaces ; always advancing, never overtaken. ”