O creators O makers(O ye, who by hands deftest, hew the earth with thy hearts extrapolated)thou art blessed
(and a blessing)
for by the imperfect notions of you more perfect becomes me
(in me gathers the coalesced intensity of your exact infinite stuff)and i 'm thick with your heady music which bursts out my body and i'm flung into burning indomitable human fire (and i become like gargantuan sleeping flowers(whole rivers of them)i become the hot sigil of the human singing *****)with drunk beautiful darkness i sing across the folding eternal abyss and with merriest volition i add the coarse sound of my fracas to the body of the electric people chorus (the makers and the creators who by pleasing distinct colorful blades scar me wonderfully )