The Wombat Is A Joy, A Triumph,

Sudden Light I Have Been Here Before, But When Or How I Cannot Tell: I Know The Grass Beyond The Door, The Sweet Keen Smell, The Sighing Sound, The Light Around The Shore.

Still We Say As We Go,-"strange To Think By The Waywhatever There Is To Know,that Shall We Know One Day.

This Sunlight Shames November Where He Grieves In Dead Red Leaves, And Will Not Let Him Shun The Day, Though Bough With Bough Be Overrun. But With A Blessing Every Glade Receives High Salutation.

Love Is The Last Relay And Ultimate Outposts Of Eternity.

Places That Are Empty Of You Are Empty Of Life.