O Thou Thief of Hearts, the rays of joy spreading in the firmament of my inner silence heralded the promise of Thine approach. Many nights in twinkling garments, many dawns donning green veils of glittering, dewy pearls, many twilights dancing in cadence with cow‐bells, many years decked with spring‐blossoms, summer-zephyrs, diamond‐icicles, and shining garments of uttering rain that blushed with joyous expectancy: all waited for Thee in the bower of memory.
But the wolf of time stole upon Thy devotees; now they are no more, and I am left alone—all alone—and love for fickle festivities has own. Yet will I travel with the ever‐roaming hours in search of Thy path. I mind not if I must wait even a thousand millennia, for I know I shall catch Thee, O Thief of Hearts, sometime, at eternity’s end!
41. Wake Me, That I May Know the Terrors of Mundane Delusion to Be But Dreams