I have grown weary of the winds of heaven. I will not be a reed to hold the sound Of whatsoever breath the gods may blow, Turning my torment into music for them. They gave me life; the gift was bountiful, I lived with the swift singing strength of fire, Seeking for beauty as a flame for fuel - Beauty in all things and in every hour. The gods have given life - I gave them song; The debt is paid and now I turn to go.

How should they know that Sappho lived and died Faithful to love, not faithful to the lover, Never transfused and lost in what she loved, Never so wholly lovin…

Life has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things, Blue waves whitened on a cliff, Soaring fire that sways and sings, And children's faces looking…

But oh, to him I loved Who loved me not at all, I owe the little open gate That led thru heaven's wall.

You know that it would be untrue You know that I would be a liar If I was to say to you Girl, we couldn't get much higher. Come on baby, light my fire - Come o…

Ever charming, ever new, When will the landscape tire the view?

So, ungentle reader, (as you and I value what we should ashamed-after witnessing a few minor circus-marvels-to call our 'lives,') let us never be fooled into t…