The wind blew through the garden, the breath of creation exhaling its storm. Droplets of water laughed out loud their aria as they bounced off the cabbage leaves. If love were to encompass the earth, war would have no place to commence, it’s thinning ranks would wail and bellow as high out of the water grew rainbows. Funny how cabbage have cyclopean shells, huh? I’ve a pair of eyes, yet I've been blind to a world chock full of rich tyrants and poor thieves, both with eyes closed up tighter than hell, clanking their fat fingers over stolen gold, clacking their fat mouths over want, trembling their fists in fear and agony leaving me eyeless to war. Peace must come from the seat of unity. Peace is what eludes my kind. What of your love? Tortured by my gnashing teeth. Then speak more of your peace. Peace cannot be owned. Love, being part of peace, is also joyously free, it's my thoughts that pay the ferryman. I've failed Peace. I've failed Love. No.
(The Weaver's Song)