Oft we would climb a hill,
Beside that sea,
And You, Juno like
Would carry me,
From that mound, a heap,
Of earth , overlooking
The abundance of BEAUTY,
From there,
How getting the air,
We would make love,
Only to levitate us,
And the earth , filled with spring,
Flowers, blossoms, quiet,
Would make a big, huge canvas,
As perhaps made,
Long before we made out,
How we all are stringed to that ethereal measure,
How we become entwined
By the measurelessness of Nature.
(*Note: upon a painting loosely based, as attached, done by Even Ulving, courtesy: Alex Artista, Musica Pittura e Dintorni, WAAF series)
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