To create a world requires passion.
Hollow hours must be filled with beauty.
Immersed in make believe, one sojourns there,
Reduced to ecstasy and then despair,
Then breaks off for some unurgent duty
Yet can't put down a phrase one would refashion.
One feels writ small the joy of the Creation,
Nor would one trade it for a huckster's booty,
Even as one lays one's person bare.