Possession Without Obligation To The Object Possessed

Sunrays, Leaning On Our Southern Hills And Lighting Wild Cloud-mountains That Drag The Hills Along, Oft Ends The Day Of Your Shifting Brilliant Laughter Chill As A Dull Face Frowning On A Song. Ay, But Shows The South-west A Ripple-feathered Bosom Blown To Silver While The Clouds Are Shaken And Ascend Scaling The Mid-heavens As They Stream, There Comes A Sunset Rich, Deep Like Love In Beauty Without End.

But O The Truth, The Truth. The Many Eyes That Look On It The Diverse Things They See.

We Are Betrayed By What Is False Within

Sentimentalists Are They Who Seek To Enjoy Without Incurring The Immense Debtorship For A Thing Done.

Earth, The Mother Of All, Moves On Her Stedfast Way, Gathering, Flinging, Sowing. Mortals, We Live In Her Day, She In Her Children Is Growing.