We make, but thou art the creating core.

Whatever thing I dream, invent or feel,
Thou art the heart of it, the atmosphere.
Thou art inside all love man ever bore;
Yea, the love itself, whatever thing be dear.
Man calls his dog. he follows at his heel,
Because thou first art love, self caused, essential, mere.

GM

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musician, videographer, new media specialist, producer, imaginator

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New Song! hear the drum