In these tunnels there is all-nothing
My magick sees through the witch dim
crafts, and my own wizardry is all-seeing
I know the sticks and tribulations ahead.
I shall not fall for all this delusional mess,
You beggar-bitch, you are meddling with
The wrong sort. I am Bee-Stinger, and
You shall fear me. I know stitch from fraud.
I know the fabric with which the fair gods
Have created all lofty clouds. I have seen
the roots of the abyss and I am unafraid.
My sister is hungry from temporal freedom,
But I am made of sterner meddle. All this
Is as much an illusion as you and me,
Little witch, and your rotten fruit shall not
Redeem me, for I have seen into the fire.