Through all people, the Music of Love would pour, bringing light to the swords that sped through the darkness. And the light of their blades would lead the constellations to their destination.

Every time, Love pushed down the door where her loneliness lived. The Music came and sealed the chamber of her heart. She was filled with clear sweetness that was there from the start.

Oh come, ‘though you have broken your promises a hundred times…Come home, stranger and alien, come home to me….Come home, space traveler, lover of leaving for I am here...

Their wedding night was at a little hotel in Paris. There were walk up steps and a lovely view. And all was well for these two.

They learned to live contently with small things, to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion, to be worthy not respectable, and to be rich not wealthy. They let the sacred and unconscious bloom amidst the common, rendering it all extraordinary.

Look in every city or any town. Travel by foot, or train or plane. Do not settle until there is love. For there, there will be the address of your happiness.

And in the fall, the cold would wither that which was known, scattering new seed. In the spring, that which had been sleeping awoke and a new season of beauty began. For Life seeks life and builds a bridge across the darkest valley.