Lovers May Come And Go, There Was

When You Would Think, "what Was The Use Of It," You'll Remember Something You Can't Grasp And You'll Wonder What It Was.

Thoth, Hermes, The Stylus, The Palette, The Pen, The Quill Endure, Though Our Books Are A Floor Of Smouldering Ash Under Our Feet.

The Greeks Have Snatched Up Their Spears. They Have Pointed The Helms Of Their Ships Toward The Bulwarks Of Troy.

Love Has No Charm When Love Is Swept To Earth: You'd Make A Lop-winged God, Frozen And Contrite, Of God Up-darting, Winged For Passionate Flight.

Every Concrete Object Has Abstract Value, Is Timeless In The Dream Parallel.