My mind is ablaze with nameless inspiration I close my eyes, see the swirling colors of passion We are but an audience awaiting the grand performance The stage remains empty, yet another encore

The two beings without individuation had agreed inaudibly that the third must be left behind. Without her mental capacity to manipulate the craft on which they had arrived to the backwater planet, her

In darkness sit, with shiftless wit, In stillness lit, without limit, In highness low, to leagues below, Inside it grow, though seedless, sow

The torments are twelve, the powers are ten, commanded of you by who not are men, The wisdom is great, so hidden it was That he who is low may not reach above, That he who is low may not reach above By