Where were you on the fair day of youth’s innocence? Where was the valley and the storm of the world’s might? Where was the place where the soul shines purely with its light? Oh how can I capture each moment when each is just like the waves of dust that capture the world’s never ending picture? For each is that which cascades like the moonlight and brings me to the dawn of humankind! Bring me to that place of primordial power where the engines run firm and the thoughts of our countenance give their breath to the clarity of the wild! For I was composed in the whirling stamina of the great lights, and I will die by the meadow, and I will die by the valley of the stream! The purity of the heart is like the ray transfigured in the mind, and it stands, thereby emulating itself upon the soul of everything, and blurring its eyes into the wild-lands of forever. Humming with the mud and reaching for the soul, a kind touch radiates with the light of everything, and it keeps all by the star’s contraction wherein life is realigned, into something new, and where it surely sparkles with the hope rooted in wise compositions.