At the edge of the party stands,
the rejected one,
alone, but in her hands, her peace.
Her peace is an apple, a golden apple,
sparkling beyond any earthly treasure.
Into the party, she casts this apple,
inscribed, so deliciously "to the fairest one".
And who is the fairest one?
I am, I am, no I am...chaos ruled.
And Eris walks chuckling away.
Whenever I see war or violence, I know Eris is my true Master,
Wherever sensless accident would or impair, I know Eris has been there.
Chaos is power, complete fractal beauty.
Hail Eris! Fairest of the Fair.