What must I imagine it is for me to set her Love free that she might dance joyfully beneath the breathing sun? (Beat...) I glimpse her in the child that comes to play from time to time, eyes beaming with curiosity, small hands thrumming the floor of heaven. (Drum beat...) The one exactness, whatever it may or may not be is beside the point, and to be quite honest with you, our grave search for knowledge has nearly been nothing but self-importance and entertainment designed to flatter the sense of the self instead of to recognize it’s tattered frame… (Drum beat...) No. Love doesn’t happen that way, it’s much harder, said the adult. It is Love, spoke the child. (Violin...) © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime