No birth, nor death;
Balancing this universe you dance with mirth.
Bestowing your grace on those ,that chance and chant upon your myriad names;
Arent you the one who bears all the agony, inflicted upon by your mindless progeny???
Accepting all the bouquets and brickbats flung at you with equal elan;
You've been stoned and trampled upon;
attacked with bows and axe, been called deranged, and caned.
Only to accept all that with a smile and knowing glance.
As only a true sire can, to his wayward clan.
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