She shattered thrice like blindest mice; spreading wide like run and hide. The Girl, The God, The Goddess too—It was It and that was true—twas held by Love—that was her glue—it helped her sing her sorrow’s flue.
It held quite back the lies of light. Her struggle, it took all her might. In this end she’d finally found—twas only one remaining sound. God’s clear voice now spoke from Heart—nothing else within her charts.
