The spring –well of unremembered joy,
Rises on surface to display,
The eternal abstract from this time-being clay.
Antic, humor, wit, and feeling,
Chuckle the molds of thought-packed faces,
Somewhere! Oh nowhere tides the graces.
Multitudinous images sail from notes of colossal lyre,
Germinate they from watery-vase,
And after being fueled by nature, drop the fire.
Who knows! but say they, Maya causes so,
From the black-body of black-holes,
Planted atomic desires come and go!