When four years old and hanging w/ Daddy in 'Studio Garage,' my son Isaiah (now eleven) spontaneously composed this. Thanks for smiling with me.

'...to the supposedly low ones; to the myriad, invisible precious...'

'...pseudo-theodisy...'

'...pseudo-theodisy...'

'...to the dynamic depths between good Friday and Resurrection Sunday...'

'...to a relative restoring of relative, East African peace...'

'...pseudo-theodisy...'