Lo a meteor round the moon amid the stars! How like a fairy it leaveth its trail behind sparkling little innumerable motes of gold forever to be found, ever to unfold lay hidden, smoldering in the dust of time. Every cinder that from a blacksmith's furnace bloweth with ashes in the dimlit winternight like some hidden lore of ancient times doth tell me tales of woe and love benign of lads and la**es, with souls entwined. We art lost like a puff of smoke, vanished,
we hinge betwixt whispers cometh from afar in the deep vast void, darkness unconsumed the chaotic sounds we heard at the beginning of all that was, is, and to be, art still spinning. Tumultuous waters that roll in mighty oceans and that pale leaf, the last at the bough, art to me auguries of hushed time in motion that dances in cosmos in simmering rounds and beneath the skies, lurks in muddy mounds.