For the kingdom has come in all the shapes of your body. In the crystals. In the obliques. In the cusps of your hands when you drink out of fountains. They have drawn you poorly in the Renaissance. They have built you poorly in the Renaissance. The revival has not been kind to things, not kind to you. Where has the propensity of your beauty gone? The artists do not know of your stature. They do not know of your abilities. Nay! We do not know of your truth.