As soft as early morning dew br and sweet like nectar br surrounded by such subtle hues. br Each petal unique br each leaf a shape defined br in seeds’ embryonic mind. br An earthscape of scenes br so sublime br bathed in perpetual sunsets br as turning we can seek. br And in the mind such raptures br do we often find br as pleasures past and future br our dreams are of a dreamlike kind. br And then with shadows br menacing insurgents upon br a blissful scene br we claim the beauty as our own br and seek exclusivity br of that which cannot be assigned br and clutching what is not mine br I crush the dew and nectar br and make a bitter wine.