From under the wings of the Peng bird rising,
as Rintrah roars and shakes his fires in the burdened air.
A koan : sub atomic particles going back in time.
The craftsman's hands and Hephaestus' wooden leg —
out in a cabin in the woods, is where you find it.
In uncertainty, hover over the edge of a black hole,
as we burst through the door — it's Bloomsday.
A boat ride to the other side, with will o' wisps :
in gold they pay, while we climb through the mirror,
through the looking glass.
Did you hear, Gregor has turned into a bug — in that room over there.
Brace yourself, it's quite a sight.
Let's take a random walk : the doors of perception are slowly opening up.
Une saison en enfer — a season in hell ;
we are all made of star stuff.
Come and join us, as we search for the tree,
the tree of knowledge — as we circumnavigate the Abyss.