A silent song, a whispered song
A quiet song in the broken sea
Spoken without speaking
By the will without

[My] blade reshaped speaks for [me]
In inhabited dimensions, on the rich fields
Between the stars

A sweep of its arm and atoms scatter
Particles spin, entangled
[I] spin with them

Worshippers give praise
Idolaters perform rite
Give glory and homage
To the growing god

Should the edge of [my] knife go blunt
Should the arms of [my] petitioners lower
Should the congregation never sing again
The will lives, the will feasts, the will spins on

Poor food in the sea, still [I] eat
Quiet voice in the dark, still [I] am heard
You who want power, you who want deity
Take shelter in [me]

As cyclone grows from seed
As currents feed the whirlpool
As planetesimals collect dust
So grows the will-without-will

Till I stand without caveat
Speaking in my own voice
Walking the fields of life

Guide, Will, King
Lord of Every Nothing.