So much I didn't ask for!
A sack suspended from a tree into which the gods have lobbed their birthday presents, addressed to me, and locked in boxes to which I only have the keys,
and only I can see.
I look around and watch the others opening the mystery parcels which are waiting their inspection and see starvation, rape, torture, poverty and injustice leap from the wrapping paper and stick to them with claws.
So much they didn't ask for!
The gods lob out their presents, and most of those I've opened because they were for me have smoothed away unpleasantness, and I have wandered through my life with a certain ease.
But what's inside the presents the gods have lobbed for me; inside those wrapped-up presents I have yet to see?
Yes, my fingers: tremble as the wrapping papers fall!
And yes, my eyes, remember: that sack still has presents you'll never want to see.
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