Cattle in pasture show me my end. Here, a breeze with natural sounds of atoms’ creation. I am them, and they are me. Not enough to know the fee of living. The day prior, a liar granted me some knowledge: “Master deceiver, I am. My hugs prevail through your day. But I can’t say I feel the same. I have borne dramas, eye to eye—innocuous. I dawdle while thinking; you can’t see the obvious.” Cattle in pasture don’t have an answer. Loss from a dagger staggered the matter.