What Makes The Engine Go? Desire, Desire,

In Every House Of Marriage There's Room For An Interpreter.

I Like An Ending That's Both A Door And A Window.

In My Darkest Night, When The Moon Was Covered And I Roamed Through Wreckage, A Nimbus-clouded Voice Directed Me: "live In The Layers, Not On The Litter." Though I Lack The Art To Decipher It, No Doubt The Next Chapter In My Book Of Transformations Is Already Written. I Am Not Done With My Changes.

The Poem Comes In The Form Of A Blessing, Like Rapture Breaking On The Mind.

We Have All Been Expelled From The Garden, But The Ones Who Suffer Most In Exile Are Those Who Are Still Permitted To Dream Of Perfection.