MY FRIEND

My friend,I am not what I seem.Seeming is but a garment I wear — a care woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee from my negligence.

The“I"in me,my friend,dwells in the house of silence,and therein it shall remain for ever more,unperceived,unapproachable.

I would not have thee believe in what I say nor trust in what I do—for my words are naught but thy own thoughts in sound and my deeds thy own hopes in action.

When thou sayest,“The wind bloweth eastward,"I say,“Aye,it doth blow eastward;"for I would not have thee know that my mind doth not dwell upon the wind but upon the sea.

Thou canst not understand my seafaring thoughts,nor would I have thee understand.I would be at sea alone.

When it is day with thee,my friend,it is night with me;yet even then I speak of the noontide that dances upon the hills and of the purple shadow that steals its way across the valley;for thou canst not hear the songs of my darkness nor see my wings beating against the stars—and I fain would not have thee hear or see.I would be with night alone.

When thou ascendest to thy Heaven I descend to my Hell—even then thou callest to me across the unbridgeable gulf,“My companion,my comrade,"and I call back to thee,“My comrade,my companion"—for I would not have thee see my Hell.The flame would burn thy eyesight and the smoke would crowd thy nos trils.And I love my Hell too well to have thee visit it.I would be in Hell alone.

Thou lovest Truth and Beauty and Righteousness;and I for thy sake say it is well and seemly to love these things.But in my heart I laugh at thy love.Yet I would not have thee see my laughter.I would laugh alone.

My friend,thou art good and cautious and wise;nay,thou art perfect—and I,too,speak with thee wisely and cautiously.And yet I am mad.But I mask my madness.I would be mad alone.

My friend,thou art not my friend,but how shall I make thee understand?My path is not thy path,yet together we walk,hand in hand.