Let fright be known,
and dust be cast.

What was will union again,
let waves crash against rocks.

Sell thy soul for a joke or two, and walk with thy head in the air,
and pray for fairness to the great one.

Let cunning be not lost, they seek like foxes.
Truth can hide in unknown depths.

Cast a spell, and throw Runes in the air,
ask the air – in the air where coins are thrown, I-Ching.

Sell doubt to the highest bidder,
hope with despair…

Karma may seem as dada,
but where does thy map come from?