With baffling reticence these limbs pour-- were they the scream of their creation... space would about-face. A clarion call issued them as stars to constellate a soul. Secure a God's temperament--and of the mind given them, what to derive therefrom? Their wound is not wide from their reticence, the presentiment of their journey is a steady creeping...the inching forth of termless conscription. As pastoral confines bled out the lamb by the Hand of necessity, these limbs have so gathered to impart their sacrifice. A single push of an unfathomable nature sees them thus and thus. What center they contrive's amiss...one cannot take hold the Agony and Ecstasy handed by One so great.