How lovely wretched humanity sings songs of her despair, how beauty flows from the lips of her sorrow. Unworthy kings seek her sweet air, as in this interim their word is law – but in forever her songs shall reign. How I wish I could describe her tune, the melody of her silent purr! No words could recreate her soul, prescribe her medicine! We who can hear her cry, fondle these breasts of her lips, close our hearts to her song. Yet, our end is also nigh, for soon our souls shall be made into parts – do we not see ourselves in her lacking, glance into the mirror of our coming?