Art Is A Mystery. A Mystery Is

Love Being Such, Or Such, The Normal Corners Of Your Heart Will Never Guess How Much My Wonderful Jealousy Is Dark

And Still The Mad Magnificent Herald Spring Assembles Beauty From Forgetfulness With The Wild Trump Of April:witchery Of Sound And Odour Drives The Wingless Thing Man Forth In The Bright Air.

Now The Ears Of My Ears Awake And Now The Eyes Of My Eyes Are Opened.

A World Of Made Is Not A World Of Born

Yes Is A World & In This World Of Yes Live (skilfully Curled) All Worlds