You bow before your Lessers, when you are worth more Than ten of them. Stand. (Image of Ogier and Morgana by NC Wyeth)
Warbling minstrels chime Slowing electronic beats Grinding inertia.
Sprightly sprout springs so Joyfully at the prospect Of your affection
Of all the places I’ve spilled my seed, I love Your picnic basket.
Macro is micro, Above is below, thus does Titan wed tiny.
Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am