When the world was young, easy to see God's handiwork done; Creation ongoing in every blossom and bloom, Even Winter's darkness held naught of our doom; Dervish whirling, phantasmagorical in hue, everything natal, spring-fresh and new; The feeling of wonder and erotic joy, captured in every rainbow, flower and toy; Vibrating, pulsing in psychedelic repose, the splendor of life in the very first rose; Loves' beginning, melodious stirring of breast, pounding out heartsongs in the land of the blessed; Emanating, reflecting, absorbing each scent, indulgent, radiant, my spirit dancing went; Into and out from each color and form, essence embraced, cuddling and warm; Each breath holy, a waterfall of sensation, each sigh refulgent, action without hesitation; Sometimes a trigger - sound, sight or smell, hurls me back some thought from the well, of the worlds beginning, and my younger days, when I was a lad, not so set in my ways.