Attaching one arm around my hip,
Tapping to appall
bleak imcumbent myths,
On the surface of my conscience-byssus,
-- weave not, quilt the vanguard's inevitable blip
-- the predictable slip
Aiding Karmic Tradition,
Wish not the limits of time upon the Race,
Let be qualquer need occur,
Let greed be the more of cultural blithe,
-- Blanket forth, smelt the Passion to forge the redolent, edacious void
-- to come.
Leave the Body -- of death -- untraceable.