I like to float in the sea upon my back, carried. The stars wheel, ancient patterns, but I am prehistoric. Upon the beach, an altar fire roars, but where are the worshipers? I am thankful. To kiss is the proper greeting among kin. But driftwood is in short supply, I am inadequate, what shall I contribute? Bone and shining fat, like Greek sacrifice, cracking, crackling. The pain is brief, be fearless, and leap through the flame!