Neither Ghost nor Father nor a Sun But still a 3-in-1, with a flash of lightning laying scarred between them eyes All together yet always alone Standing behind a dais on Zoom invoking with the one good 20/20 between them, broadcasting words into being, manifesting Hitlerian spells to bewitch and to squander the True Tales of a Plummeting Icarus Struck Down wingless (but not forgotten) by some transcendental debasement. Admire as 'They yet She' reel a bit, employing a well-worn tactical maneuver, now, getting steady, holding on ever tighter to the wood. These my w.c.fieldsian barkers who share a predestined and enflambed yet glorious lavender-tinged third eye, with little specks of gold, surrounding... Inspired, Transported, 'They yet She' look to be pinning it down This very specific Message from the Heavens, straight. 'They yet She' are converging and this should be your takeaway So kind of pay attention, Please. "'The Lord sayeth unto me that all Men are Fools, given to wanton callowness' To which i reply: 'If only they would look into the cavity, and reach deeply and far-flung to grasp, or rather, to treasure just one of a myriad of interchangeable divine possibilities For within the obscurity rests The Glory of All or Nothing and back again for Eternity; the Eight laying down to rest, tired. And so ends The Lesson.' To which the Lord replied 'Well done U!' and better still, 'They yet She' intoned, satisfied with a sly, flyaway wink 'I know!'"