Born from a solace pit, raging
Through the mother's womb, crawling
Inside the grit, grit
On which the seeds bloom.
...
I knows no mankind,
that I've never mind.
But I knew what they were made of,
of sinew and loaf,
...
But Before You Sleep
I give you this kiss,
Warmest of the warmth,
Purest as a bliss,
And sincere as Urth.