The piggish flag slaps in the wind behind the backdrop of mechanical beasts. (And the willow?) She stood with her ancient limbs calling downward in leafless sorrow, pleading I surface in my breath with Creation, with Love. (That you raise your voice now in joy, most thankful for your fortune of being in Heaven.) The eartH, it is Heaven. Heaven, eartH … (Do not p retend that you’ve nothing to lose just because everything, according to your belief, is going to be okay in the end. Do not cover your eyes if you can’t believe… raise your arms, drop to your knees, and pray to what you know beneath your feet! ) It’s happening- and on my knees, I find Home… Rejoice! Heaven awaits my full Love! (But you are not worthy, you’re guilty!) Now! Now is the only moment that counts, Curmudgeon! We are free to have Heaven, or if can choose to create hell, its been arranged by humankind to have one. It is not the time to get angry at my plea, it is time, however...
(The Weaver's Song)