with hands tired, cramped, reaching to the emptiness, settle upon the brow a thought not yet had, only to be remembered as a love long lost. teach not the wind to blow nor the sun to shine, teach not horses wild to roam with stride, but learn deep the wound of the violins bow, listen soft to stars twinkle, and you will see the vain colors of the butterfly in the gardens shadow. trickle a wink if you will, and let he who yearns take his fill, set upside down the hour glass and see if time for you will stand still. the things that burn are what ones soul seeks, and the things cast hurt are what we yearn make waste of, can she stand the chill of the winters snow, can he carry a load heavier than gold? cut deep not the flesh but wound your eyes as not to see, all that we ask is not all that we need. we find in common, walks on the beach, but lay bare the footprints in the sand none can see, and what of long walks when one walks alone, are they in company of others with smiles of sojourn. alas reach high upon the fruits out of arms reach, set your strengths upon the weak, and and for the mute sing there speech. but all this is too foreign and too much to ask, too much of a chore to complete as a human task. so set forth common the dream, stay upon the paved path, and when the train makes its last stop, careful making that last hop.