Self-consciousness was born, in the
mammal kingdom. All illusions of those
who mourn, brought asunder, made forlorn.
They created surplus power and rested in
degeneration. Lofty doctrines faded out,
stagnating mediocre generations. Though
I challenged this! I attacked it like a pest!
My virtues heights I reach for. Existential
warlust without rest. As my spirit strode
the peak of the Iron Mountain a brutal
those old Northern (K)nightly fountains
and all these primate values were torn.

As I ventured down from these ranges,
carrying no tablets, points, or goals,
feasted with all idolaters. Laughed at
their decadent ends unfold. Once bored
I returned once more to my old shore,
where my equal minorities still soared
and mingled.

I shaded with them the news
I had in store, in superior splendour
they thus lingered.