What can a man say when his heart has been kissed by the beauty which causes a heart to beat and the wind to blow? What does he do when his soul gazes upon that which makes him hero? How can he cope with seeing hearts' desire, his passion fire, pass before his eyes day after day? What does he do when the fullness of his passion stands before him with arms outstretched? What does he give that his heart may be possessed by that which he adores? How does he set aside self to seek the uplifting of another? He gives himself, with love.
