Sun and sin, with the light and without, consciousness and unconsciousness, the clever one and the dead dunce, then the trickster, the third, the thirsty knowledge seeker, and now three for three: the dead man, the trickster, or the toll payer, and the spirit, he himself, and the dead son. The one without, the lie, the liar and lyricist. While my brothers fought, and one to his death, I took their food and became their master. This, my sin, survival, my rebuttal to my god, my only recourse to my curse, while to my grave I sod. The curse of my brother Cain, his victim, her second son. And who was outcast, I? Yes surely, I. Hence my guilt and god.