O! A lightness, sightless and bold:
oh, its tightness in these moments foretold.
How did I do? Who did we fare?
This cataclysmic motion, caught by the hair.
How I do love you, the justice between
the peace and the wicked, I, interlocutor seen
only for a moment, until we all call down
for the golden slumbers, the wholesome crown.
Whoa, is it passivity or delivery you seek?
Crow, is it that only I and I eek? How would you,
you, you, you, you mysterious scoundrel
prefer that I dice them, our planets’ founded?