There’s a rumble in the streets that sounds like distant thunder. Do not fear it, for it is a natural sound, not my kind’s fouled noise. It is Love, the triumph over self, Love’s art bringing me back to my beginning. It is not a tale of woe and murder, it is a drama that’s been waiting in the wings for Love’s triumphant cue to summon me forth! It’s the thunder of Love rolling joyously across the globe. I’ve listened to fear long enough. I’m tired of my weeping, exhausted of pulling out my hair and gnashing my teeth, exhausted of my dreams being written as tall tales instead of one great towering truth. I’ve begun to sense the reckoning within myself, the longing to remove the foul noise I’ve planted within which has pierced Love and turned me in on myself. I’ll need steady hands and head to remove the clamor that’s lodged deep inside, that’s flouting my reason, that’s bringing me to fear another, causing me to destroy goodness, leaving me afraid of Love. I am one! I am not sep
(The Weaver's Song)