Accept in return, the eternal fragrance of the unfading flower of love.
It shines even in the moonless night of dark fear. It is what Hope
Chooses as her form when she reveals herself in this mortal world;
It is beauty and attracts to itself, more varied, many-hued beauty:
The butterflies gladly do its bidding, conveying the flutter of joy to
More forlorn twigs and leaves making them dance in the breeze
I don’t have to say I am happy, because love is joy and joy is self-
Evident, like fragrance that wafts across and fills vast empty spaces.