as told by Takhisis:
Glorious child of nature, sweet
a sphere of heaven dropped to earth, and into begging palm
skin softly curved and scented bright and addicting of Life Itself
Do not worship, for words are crude cudgels on delicate flesh.
Sing your praises silent, a blind vibration of the soul in pure joy, ecstasy at experiencing
Laughing child, nurturing mother, awestruck maiden, catsmiling courtesan.
Perfection in an orb, goddess made peachflesh and blood sweet as starlight
Witness here, at the roots of the tree, and envy those who have tasted.
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