Woven from the seeds of a bygone design, I walked forth, I stood as a man, stolen in the decaying grass, I defiled the sin that was to be my last, a chosen branch, petrified wood, laying down the chosen one, stood, but standing, silent, but shouting still, the nothingness of a window open, beckoned me in, lost, lamenting alone, the wetness of another becoming, see me, here I stand…