Thus is our passage on this stage
        ever-so-quickly, so brief
                and our shadow so fleet
                as to barely flicker
                        that eternal flame
                which consumes and transforms
                all imperfection on the path
Thus is our performance interpreted
        in the temporal phasing
                of some arbitrary moment
                which is the justice of oblivion
                        meaningless beyond
                our feigned attempt to own it
                and to mark it with our scent
Thus is our character
        fixed upon that ranging spectrum
                billions of would-be heroes
                billions of default villains
                        all vague and grey
        laid down by the harshest of judges
        none other than one's self.