you are not the seconds and minutes and hours of things br or the days and weeks and months and years of things br or whatever to me love could or should be to you the very center br br and can you not see into the stars of things and the same night skies br shadows illumine and the very passing showers and elipsing objects as br you pass by the very moving and groaning and shallow frozen polar br and all the orbs in all the skies and none of these are you to me br br and you are neither the watery form that softly paddles by and the web feet of things br nor two poled eyes peering from the pool and of things that you and the winds murmur our giggles to hush the silly man and silly child that you are and I with you and none of these you are br br for you are the very spring and summer br the skyless winter and ochre autumns faire br and the feasting and the singing and the weeping br br for you are the cycle of things and the very coming and going br and entering and leaving br and the first and the last and the very heart of this cycle of this life and these things we are together you and Ibr br Andrew Jamesbr br