So as the temple with now triple gods Cracked an only manacle, left, Further awry became her wrongful right gaze And even sooner, her sense of self unraveled, If just before “undone.” I could smell it, I could smile it and I’d share it, As I’d been there before, so I pitch her this – Come next time, hold my hand like a lily atop water, Bring fruit, lots of fruit, And never forget our wish, Never let our wish built atop fortune’s aroma Hinder what tomorrow could never be.