Love Is Everything. And That's All We

My Love For Those I Love -- Not Many -- Not Very Many, But Don't I Love Them So?

In The Name Of The Bee And Of The Butterfly And Of The Breeze, Amen!

Proud Of My Broken Heart Since Thou Didst Break It, Proud Of The Pain I Did Not Feel Till Thee, Proud Of My Night Since Thou With Moons Dost Slake It, Not To Partake Thy Passion, My Humility.

That Short, Potential Stir That Each Can Make But Once, That Bustle So Illustrious Tis Almost Consequence, Is The Eclat Of Death.

You Ask Of My Companions. Hills, Sir, And The Sundown, And A Dog As Large As Myself.