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| rdfs:comment | - A poem attributed to Fisher. "In a journey through the wastes, I found a godkneeling as it pushed its hands into the sandagain and again, each time lifting them upto watch the lifeless grains stream down.Dismounting from my weary horse, I walkedto stand before this apparition and its dusty handsand watched for a time the cycles of their motionwhen at last up it looked, eyes beseeching.‘Where,’ asked this god, ‘are my children?’" ―The Lost BelieversFisher
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| abstract | - A poem attributed to Fisher. "In a journey through the wastes, I found a godkneeling as it pushed its hands into the sandagain and again, each time lifting them upto watch the lifeless grains stream down.Dismounting from my weary horse, I walkedto stand before this apparition and its dusty handsand watched for a time the cycles of their motionwhen at last up it looked, eyes beseeching.‘Where,’ asked this god, ‘are my children?’" ―The Lost BelieversFisher
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