I am flexible, you see. Like a spoon in the hand of an Oracle. I bend, as not to disturb the universe.
I bend my will, sneaketh past, but then, there is the knot, and I am tied, to tight.
I walk then, on a tightly tied rope, it is a slope, towards an abyss, and me, the spoon will, ah,
not fall, but cling to the nose of the Oracle, in distress.
I fear I will after all disturb the universe with my failing to obey, the law.