"why don't you,"
said the Lofty Man
warily considering me,
"sing of the Sublime
the Grand, The Divine?
Sing you of the Uncommon
the Mystery
of the Spiritual, the Religious
of the Incomprehensible -
why don't you?"

"Cos,"* I said,
pushing the toothpick
between my teeth
(the ****** food bits always get stuck in between),
"I've been  
to the mountain top there
and I've seen the Sublime
is just O so, so Common
so battered Trivial"
(Then I spat out the food bits -
O it was Divine Bliss, just like in post-******)