In the winter of my day
I contemplate thee
My love
My lover
child golden yet unborn
known to me
as are you
so you are
I do not know what fire
hast kept thee
out among the trees
Out among the stars
But I know it burns
Deeply in thy chest
warm and loving
fiery and charmed
indeed you are so charmed
We work in the Dark; we give what we have. Our Doubt is our passion- our passion is our task, and the rest is the madness of art. -Henry James
