Emptiness is the perfect platform
For truth unveiled before all in blackness
An empty slate, freshly quilled pen
And all the words in which to convey
Are but yours for the taking
And the making
Of life or death is yours to choose
I see a woman of crystal light
Resting upon cloud and sun
She watches the battle as a referee
And spectator
As coach
And undying fan
She is the bat
And the fences
The tool in which we rejoice
And the obstacle to which we aspire
