Meadow encloaked her, meadow inspired her, meadow took her away as it could 
without time using time merely as scaffolding is used at the beginning of complex structures before, buttressed, they fly supremely on their own. 
        That terrible winter of the soul. 
        The cry was within me making cold all the meadow that existed in my breast was cured there in hopeless tangles yet did hope ultimately to discover and extrude the mysteries. 
        The cry crushed my throat, dared not escape, into the pear-like air above the meadow.