When the language was young and full of wonder, it crafted illustrious tales of beauty about once unimaginable immortal loves that unexpectedly lost their ardor across the battlefield of time, human frailties, and broken hopes. A thousand loves were born in the bosom of every legend and a thousand more died under bated breath in the feeble arms of aging myths. Like the mercurial forces of nature and man's own mortality, every auspicious thought of human imagination was subjected to the same cycle of love, beauty, decay, ruin and death. And from this spinning wheel of creation, bliss, and chaos, emotions and words were delicately weaved into poetry.