To The Man Who Passed Through My Harp.

Beloved, you do not know this, but today I planted a seed. But oh, how deeply it is buried beneath the earth that light and dampness cannot even reach it. But it will thrive... it will. But the witnesses will not be the fair sunshine nor the sweet music of the birds. Only that wind that I told you about, blowing through that seemingly-accidental portal. Only that howling, ever moving friend and those still walls that echo its passing shall be the sole witnesses to this fragile, tender life. This vow...