Talking excitedly with your fellow Gaians, you never noticed the young woman standing close by. She begins to walk past and suddenly shoves a red box into your hands before rushing off. You stare after her in surprise, only catching a glimpse of her red shirted back and long black and gold hair before she rounds a corner. You rush over and look around, but she has vanished without a trace. You frown and look at the box, finally noticing a note tucked under the white ribbon:
Life is an immense dream. Why toil?
All day long I drowse with wine,
And lie by the post at the front door.
Awakening, I gaze upon the garden trees,
And, hark, a bird is singing among the flowers.
Pray, what season may this be?
Ah, the songster's a mango-bird,
Singing to the passing wind of spring.
I muse and muse myself to sadness,
Once more I pour my wine, and singing aloud,
Await the bright moonrise.
My song is ended--
What troubled my soul? I remember not.
-Bittersweet Anon
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