On a plane above these mundanities,
You were the sentry on the boundary
The last defense against the demiurge
Hoping in his vanity to emerge
Through the gateway to Tuesday Night Quizzo,
Your Sphinx-like riddles and sing songs gizmo.
Although vanity rules me out as God
Asking myself if I'm him is still odd:
Was I the first, using only grammar,
To smash into heaven like a hammer?
Or were we all on the same precipice
Straddling between god and mere artifice?