After you, bursts of daft tone substitute for a dream retreat. Or 
wait. There’s nothing.  
 
I’m making music past the closest saturnal   
pluck of adversative brutality ..  
Yet nothing is forbidden.  
Finalists like you quit general practice — off to privacy  
with little or no forgiveness left, I laugh. And yet not you, your honor...   
 
Inner, outer merge in our court system, no shadows, the light flows in your odor and hue...praise be ..