I was born to wonder when and why the morning sun was to set and rise; Did light leave darkness far behind only to drop behind the mountains, and recline? Rechained now I am to wandering free in the haunting memories of the years of stories gone by before and after me as the closing darkness nears. I was born to wonder how there was light before this darkness now and I was born to wonder where such mellow melodies are sung, that are seemingly close, yet nowhere near envisioned by full-throated thrushes on the darkling plains whence sorrows come whispering hope as tomorrow rushes here. I was born to sing again such songs that would turn around the setting star, the settling wind to turn the deepening darkness in; the verse that rhymes, and would begin but never end, to let our words resound through all our experiences and spin together one tale by which we all are bound. I was born to go beyond what boundaries light has set wandering out onto the lightless steps to ask, to touch, lest I forget and return to remember and recall poetic gloom, love's hopes and fears, legends made real behind closed walls, of one man's dreams, and all men's tears. I was made to taste the wine, that poesy rhyme, that leaves me fainting for more intoxicating dreams to find, to seek out what would captivate our minds from the light I sensed there beyond the soul, in the sun's rising, in fires captured in the snow like sunlight broken into a million rays in wisdom scattered into glistening gold.