Mark, Remember this memory? Birth? Every love offered, every peace made, every promise kept, every helping hand, every loving gaze, every beautiful silence. (Silence.) rang the alarm. Time? There’s no such thing. It’s irrelevant to everything. Love has seen to that. There is a tipping point and the cable's snapped and you're free falling in space like a shooting star, without eyes, what, oh what do you know but the earth? If I am missing something, I suppose then I might ask love a question, haven't I need to find love on my own walk and not that of anyone or anything else? I am to serve the earth, instead I've been strangling her shores with toxins dumped in her waters, boiling air, smog lifting its talons to greed, great heaps of jangling metal frames, in honor of what exactly? Me and only me? Tell me preachers, has anyone the key? ~ I cry when I dance with a soul that’s truly alive because spirits have suffered greatly at my hand. Where was I going? Why d
(The Weaver's Song)