Borne by the Path, I did not come, to only waste your air, and drink your rivers. I believe – in the love of knife and scar, in Mother and Father. My Life is built upon, a Bill of Rights, my will embraced, by a Constitution. I am a Story. So sit down, Standing Man, Стойкий Мужик, and listen. Hear my ramble.
I believe in First Steps. I believe in the audacity of birth, the starved wolf, a naked storm, a brutal truth, and the Absolute. Kaunan, ulcer. Fire of pain and tearful eye. I find Strength. Sweet Path, neglected wife, I will make love to you. I will stand emboldened.
And so I hung on that tree, nine terrible nights. A sacrifice – myself to myself, a worthless offering. Not even a grave for my dreams, not a door to the Underworld. I swallowed the Key. Now how do I cut my own Path through your thicket?. Let me in, I demand at the gates, by the stare of my Mother, I hold the Key within.
Why have my corpse revived? I deserve no Grace, Magnanimous One, why are you laughing? Your lotus feet, give them here, they are mine to worship.
Death, may I die of Laughter.