It was time now for love’s new song. His salvation lay far beyond her imagined graces. It was time now to give thanks, to burn all mementos. He would sing of her praises beyond their conclusion. It was time at last for a song beyond seasons. A song beyond the knives and ashes of particular loves. A song beyond death, unwitholding and dazzling in its hopeful affects. In solitude once more, they withstand the changes in tides and reason, begin again the pas de deux of dream and spirit, resplendent like the dancing waves, strength unto strength. May this, their lost joy illumine forever some blessed isle or quiet hill. The spirit of forgotten seeds shall whisper now. Hear it speaking to the many–“Cast aside thy lowliness and be magnificent once more. Though their shadows be gone, their vision remains like remembered touch or stained glass moment. Life, breath and firmament shall make anew the greenness that hath faded from their fields. Gather unto thee another and sing glad the praises of the love-fallen saints. Come now to know this way, this bliss, this peace, this sacrifice, this touch, this wonder, this undying faith, this goodness, this heart and exaltation, this henceforth and forevermore, this beauty and its beholding, this spring promise and new awakening, this imagination and most humble blessing, this beatitude and prayer, this grace and glory, as it was in the beginning, in this world without end…”