And through the Void it moves and twists and writhes,
Propelled by arms and mouths a thousand-fold
To meals, a soul, a shattered piece of crystal god,
The frail and timid shard of one who is ex-life.

The half-formed ones who screech and hurl their
Curses, 'cross the cold which is not mortal cold,
The nothingness in which they are his only thing,
Have bled and bleed their poison skin like spoiled meat.

Remains of battles, touched not by the soulless forms
Fall into a cavern maw, its depth unseen;
Spawned by treachery and kept alive by greed,
It ever-reaches back towards Dynara's first planet.

And hark, delicious presence comes, for him
And only him to feed, an armoured female
Warm, so warm, so trap! catch! quick!
A million tentacles lash out and grab her.
Pull her, 'way from rival, it wants her too,
No, mine, not yours, you golden worm, you filthy
One who tortures him, his essence burns with hunger,
Don't you see? He needs her, quick! inside! in him!
Alas, it strikes, it sticks him, think, absorb it!
Slip inside it, steal its memories and think, it is him!
Hunger, seek out little shards, she follows, 'ware,
He is not the same as it, but good enough, for now.

He and she return, the little shards are pleased and not,
They see him feed, its mouth so full of warmth and red,
Suspecting, knowing and the Elders too agree;
Their essence screams its lust for him, it will be his!

The Elders are too many, he is not enough,
The golden worm dispels into the hurting
Air, release! his master comes, the rest surprised,
Then cowed by master's glorious tone, then home.

The hunger grows, then fed, the shards surrounding
His projected form which leads them to his tooth'ed maw,
A darkened home made warm by hunger sated,
A score of shards stored for his future need, assured.