Scorched by the flame of a torch.
I don’t understand, tho I am forced.
When listening I try to comprehend,
but manner and decency reflect me
directly. Will I provide? Still thinking—
Stop thinking,
I have no proof or no meaning
when listening; I stay quiet. My co-pilot
paralyzes my lashes to be polite.
Concise, I am pure with my
deliverance of strife.
