We are not destined for toil but for frolic
Those who labor miss their clues
And act meagerly their roles
We who play need no utterance but
---the breath of life itself.

In our rollicking, we capture nature
That plays hide and seek with us
---shunning and yet yielding to us
In our taking, we find beauty
---skipped by those who submit to
---life's grind
From castaways of others are gems of
---artists and gist of thinkers.

And when we romp and dance
Love wells up within us
Waxing our compass one to the other
In granting us a parcel of eternality. The Coming of the Night You and I could now fulfill
---the thrusting uplift
---of our spirit
We choose instead to know
---our mother and father
Thereby discovering
---the begetters of our race
Whose stone spurted forth
---before we knew the light
And when our day is spent
---will bear fruit with
---the coming of the night.