Do no harm. Leave the war-plane frame of reference to other puzzle pieces. We are naked. We are not. We are not certain of which monologue to begin. So we chant in unified panting etching legends out of rhymes. Do no harm. Do no harm. It matters now that the growing telephones are charged like neglected poisons of dampening redials. Truth is gaining wisdom like groups of formatted crosses jumping like splinters of margarine jars. We are naked. We are not. We are one with living and prepared for the drying of the hands. Clean me up and leave me outside. Sun gone but wind remaining. Do no harm. Do no harm. Do no harm.