The doubter sings, the gods turn sunlight near, the wings forgot to fly, and they the same to far in me. Thy abode keep thou well, the good find heaven is slain, red again, for strong is my shadow, the ways they reckon are vain. If ill of hymn, he slays the subtle seven, brahmin meek out the sacred, they pine the lover is me and shame the slain. If he leave doubt who am I, when the one are gods turn back.
– Josh Fleming, all words above taken randomly from Brahma a poem by: Ralph Waldo Emerson, then recycled and remixed.
Image by: Márton Király