Violence is a tool of the ignorant. Flames touched down. Knowledge awoke rather late, yet its nemesis of doubt, ignorance, burning and derelict, arrived with the dawn and loitered next to our clacking teeth, quaking hands, spines bereft of certainty, yellowed from self-abuse, housed in shells of coldness. Upon the last inhalations of clean air in a pale sunrise a dove cooed above the storm like a siren over the noise and smog, beyond the squalor, from street to broken street of the fire-walled capitals, a shrieking inferno of stanch boundaries, dreadfully difficult to imagine as backdrop for our blissful howl that trembles by the fire. © 2010 by mark prime Ignorance Kills via Sakinao 8 Ignorance According to Thomas H. Huxley
(The Weaver's Song)