You need not other gods,
So bend the knee now, let it melt.
Though hark! I am no prophet
wise, you've just inherited the spelt
that I've refined among the wheat.
Had I been
docile, not combined
my faith with grain – the science suite,
on bread I never would have dined...
Then what of incest – Soul
Flesh? And who'd observe it as
allowed? But I've prepared a brand
that is a whole – within,
without. And Life was then my only
having more is false devotion.
Not in my nature, find it odd.
Though seeking - still a nifty notion.