Who king in selfish selves, that through our hearts, make ourselves. In lack of better knowing, the know is lost in the now, and the now in the know. Which is the feeling of a deity missing. The pointing strait at "The" who is painted on every unforgotten heart misplaced behind the ribs when it belongs in the soul which bends its likeness to whatever simple, not in skill but faith, which is to seem a yellow sign with an artists (WARNING!) (Now eyes of faith are blindly opened to Him who is true, Who is power, Who is right)