Sweetly does vision of yesteryear my partaking of your earthy nature nurture.  By recall of my youth, such placid palaces were once in exuberant abundance.  And at every turn, one could find a secret garden.  Over every hill, one could dance into an elating pasture.  But all that has transpired since those idyllic days has driven these sanctuaries to virtual unpresence. Now the world gives homage not to such tendering concerns.  The world has announced the death of Pan.

And mourn I have...until your enchanting presence arose amidst the noise and clatter of that damning pittance.  Now once again the songs of my youth float clearly!  Soar as a melodic waftings in new dreams through my heart!  O woman, I leap in bid for this sojourn!  My heart bounds out of my breast, my feet skip in dance!  I take in this deep breath—chi!  And exhale in new trance the sunrise of the morrow.

They say the worlds revolve around the sun; but of the sun, what body does it seek?  Does it gyrate around a center of galactic entropy?  Does true brilliance orbit in any manner at all?

Still, hearts play in that sun, yet the darkness, too.  And the to’s and the fro’s that fill the center, the hides and stumbles that join together, revolve not one about the other.  They circle about the now of discovery of what it means to be us!