Motionless and singularly in its emptiness,
The Unfulfilled drives the mechanism
With intense burden and opposition,
And the production of power emerges
To kindle an orb of substance.

Gee, Wiz!

Whims with purpose break free
From the core of empty totality
And dance with Pandemonium
To convergence, one with the other,
And threads of light fracture the darkness.

Ah-ha!

The pinpoint of newness, still at its core,
Spirals outward without measure,
Stamping blueprints as it universes,
And the whims multiply unanimously
Until The Unfulfilled is complete.

Wa-la!