Had I eggs for fingertips, what would it feel like to touch a star- would it feel like laughter? Their singing does not reach inside my shell, so sturdy. But, Hah! I, unprepared, have been transformed. A hole drilled through my top, what was inside has been removed, to be refreshed. So hollowed, I am now an object of great beauty.
Silence! Of your objections, I shall have none. The frequency shakes me to my grit calcium core.
You are chosen to lay testament to this great and noble honesty.
Open inside like great stone cathedrals.
OH! Quake and Fear for the balance of your souls!
Measured on tenderhooks.
But now, claws sheathed in kittendown; Bring to me, for I require, a measure of mirth, with which to see this concluded.
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