We who would be poets write for love. br Just as every other living being br Sifts through vast and complex fragments of br Infinity, so near, yet vaguely fleeing, br We, too, seek in rhythmic thought, that love br That stirs the universe, the spirit freeing. br Every creature reaches out to blend br In substance, with this one desired end-- br br Insects, dancing through the sunlit grass, br Concert masters drawing forth sweet harmony; br Each performing in a separate class br Joins in heartbeats of eternity.