love is surely a fall; from what place higher; and where does it land? I say from Order, and to chaos—and we "love" this fall? or is it just the feeling, the thought, the thrill; and disordered, dismembered, we clamor again for high ground—a predictable plane who started this worrisome cycle a'stir, and why? but to play the game is divine; Order and Chaos intertwined—and here we have our hint.