But I must go.

I do so want to sit here and talk more. So much more. All this is new. Transforming my hurts into gold. Why, if it were real gold, I would be a millionaire overnight! But I must go. I promised to visit a friend. She waits.

Then go, my darling. It is not as if I shall be left behind. Oh no, for I am forever and always with you. You may well not hear me as you go about your preparations but I shall be watching as you, every flicker of your eyelashes, every lift and tread in your step. I shall miss nothing.

I wish that I never lost sight of you, that you were always in the forefront of my mind. That way, I would never fall into the gullies of sadness and gloom that lie in wait for me.

Give yourself time, my love. Be patient. It will happen as you desire.

You are the maker of magic!

You've asked me to bring all my cares, my hurts, my pain into our love nest so that our love will transform them into gold. Is that how it works? That, no matter what it is, it will transform into gold?

Indeed my ancient sage, indeed!

And this gold, what form does it take?

Ah, my precious one, you are its master! You are the goldsmith, the philosopher, the keeper of the stone. You are the creator, the maker of magic, the voice of abraxas.

This is all too much. I'm sure I do not understand. If I am all these things, why then do I need our love?

Oh, thrill divine! You make me explode with laughter! How tender and fine are your quizzes. Love is your power, your pain and hurts, your material. Love transforms all. And you, Magical Queen, you declare it so! Oh do come to me, let me pour myself over you. Let me shower you with heavenly kisses. Let me pin stars in your hair and litter your neck with rubies. Come to me my love, come to me!