A person dancing, twisting his head around to see the sunlight streaming in through the windows of the soul.  Wild hair flying around a laughing face, loving space.  Quick dark eyes searching the rain for a sign of its stopping, finding none and at peace with the dampness of the air.  The clouds are throwing their arms around the sun and now they melt away, leaving a clear blue sky for the person to gaze into, wondering what has come over the land, that eerily beautiful music is now wandering about free.  Free and unfettered by the chains of lost time, by the words of a madman, throwing his head into the wind to smell salt air from the sea while still dreaming of the desert.  The desert is the homeland of the true love and fear that cling to a soul like the damp night of dew rising above misty tarns, turning fens into valleys, and mountains into riverbeds of flowing joy.  He understands that the time has come to scream his joy into the atmosphere, telling his God of what he has learned of the world.  Limbs flailing, hair flying in tangled ecstacy about the sweat- and tear-stained face of the refugee.  

The love has found him.
He will never go hungry again.