I went away for the weekend where there were no internets, but I checked my prompt Saturday morning and wrote this on the train:
The Genius over Every Hidden Thing
The genius over every hidden thing
Protects the seed inside the shell inside
The wooden box beneath my bed; and I,
I am most hide—
More hide than all the gold and silver vein
That Earth beneath her incubus has got.
They think that I am in the pillow fort
And I am not.