Monks throng like a kennel of pups from disputing with the masters who instruct them whether the run of the wind is one, or one the ocean's waters or… - Taliesin

Those that placed me on the cross I knew when young. That drove me on the tree, My head hung down. Stretched were my two feet, So sad their destiny. Stretched with extreme pain The bones of my feet. Stretched were my two arms, Their burden will not be. Stretched were my two shoulders, So diligently it was done. Stretched were the nails, Within my heart. Stretched was the spiking, Between my two eyes. Thick are the holes Of the crown of thorns in my head. The lance was struck And my side was pierced. It will be struck to you also, As your right hand (struck me). To you there will be no forgiveness, For piercing me with spears. And the Ruler we knew not When thou wert hung.

I am old. I am young. I am Gwion, I am universal, I am possessed of penetrating wit.

Am I not with hosts making a din? I would not cease, between two hosts, without gore. Am I not he that is called Gorlassar? My belt was a rainbow to my foe.