In a dream, I imagine I've lost my arm. I'm walking past the city, past the towns, into the Blue Dandenong hills. There, as I look back, it seems a miller had stoked a fire in the sea. The clouds form a satin robe: regal with violet, crimson and gold. At the center of it, the royal heir: Prince of Life, fiery Lover of the Earth, the Gracious King. It is too much beauty for one man to behold alone... I lept to my feet, the will to applaud rushing through me so powerfully, so irresistibly, That on that day where the grasses whisper, carried by the wind from where I stand, you could hear the sound of one hand clapping.