That's the story, told by a lover's whimpers in the night, a remembrance of times past, before past, -- alone in the unseen depths of pre-existence. Now born, alight with fire like a lambent urge of light, seeking out our Guide's true Lamp -- Father of All -- Oh lonely candle! "How can utter nothingness gallop its steed in the field of pre-existence?" Or the fleeting shadow, me, give account before the everlasting Sun...? To poems I grant the like -- the poetry of my heart -- the cries of an oft-perturbèd soul. Come my friend, let the night address us one last time before the End.