Words Were Her Plague And Words Were

The Quivering Of Psyche's Butterflies.

Let Love Step Down, Open The Clasped Hands, Forfeit The Thorny Crown, Retrieve The Garment That Was Whole, Body And Spirit One, Spirit And Soul.

Words Were Her Plague And Words Were Her Redemption.

Love, Why Have You Sought The Horde Of Spearsmen, Why The Tent Achilles Pitched Beside The River-ford?

Every Concrete Object Has Abstract Value, Is Timeless In The Dream Parallel.