in praise and worship of Bohemian; or, on man's seemingly infinite capacity for self-delusion

none can touch Bohemian;

none can kill Her;

none can endure Her godlike rage.


for who can know Bohemian?

who can understand Her holy glowing heart?

who can number the stars?

who can plumb the depths of the ocean?

truly, there are none like Me;

none have been nor will there be like Me;

I live a charmed life.

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