What do I think of that? To Love and respect? To cherish evermore? Enough questions! There you stand with your feet firmly on the ground, howling to mother that she might sense your hemorrhage! Howling dear father! Wail your misery! Pound your storm! Boom! Boom! Boom! Your bride is bleeding out. Better I relinquish my sword and begin to design my heaven from the things of Love. And remember; never underestimate Her power and His will. Pretty strong. The weight of it tires me of Love. It’s harder to Love than it is to hate, she said. We are on the same wheel, next to one another. Yes. Where have you been? What do you mean? Enough questions! © 2011 by mark prime
(The Weaver's Song)