Howling like some uncompromising beast I staggered impetuously, headlong over this, our arid living space and began to stomp, shattering all things deemed indispensable in today’s humid race. First I crushed love, she wept plaintively as I pressed down upon her lovely neck, “Without me you’ll stir odious death!” I pressed harder for affection having spoke. Soon she was nothing more than shavings, tiny gasps of a lost innocence. I now turned my attention to the spirits, the gods of machination, mankind’s allegorical deities slogging around in our waterless heads, “I am God! Allah! Yahweh! We’re the righteous!” Eradicated! Blasted before their sour breath could wolf down all remaining light. I then turned my concentration to patriotism and, without a moments hesitation, shred them, yanked them all down from their flying poles, doused them in their own fatty blood And lit them on fire. “You must cherish us!” You’re of no use! Good riddance futile rags! The warmongers saw ...
(The Weaver's Song)