O lady of soft and&nbsp;&nbsp;light&nbsp;&nbsp; i love&nbsp;&nbsp;you&nbsp;&nbsp;as&nbsp;&nbsp;our hands and&nbsp;&nbsp;spirts&nbsp;&nbsp;join&nbsp;&nbsp; in thanksgiving and our lips&nbsp;&nbsp;sing&nbsp;&nbsp;praise&nbsp;&nbsp;for these sacred&nbsp;&nbsp;moments of&nbsp;&nbsp;time&nbsp;&nbsp;perhaps&nbsp;&nbsp;it can be said that&nbsp;&nbsp;this love&nbsp;&nbsp;is more than that of wide eyed children standing before a room&nbsp;&nbsp;full of presents or with unending&nbsp;&nbsp;tickets to Disneyland as Vips.Upon your&nbsp;&nbsp;mind&nbsp;&nbsp;i&nbsp;&nbsp;long&nbsp;&nbsp;to beat&nbsp;&nbsp;out a soft and&nbsp;&nbsp;tender&nbsp;&nbsp;rhytm of passion like African&nbsp;&nbsp;warrriors did on ancient drums&nbsp;&nbsp;.