Oh how we dance the joys of life, and how we revel in Dionysian strife.
The blackest light in the deepest night, adds flames to the wings of our flight.
A totem made and a totem found, a totem of sight and a totem of sound.
For Qayin’s ladder is twofold and round, neither by death nor life we are bound.
The higher the mountain of life resound, the greater the other of death will bound.
JR/O - Own