There's a thin line that seems to be growing, a merging force of good, less about belief, more about my knowing. I need to believe beyond the consumptive self, beyond the broken windows of man’s glass dwellings, beyond the broken family and the wars of aggression, beyond what I imagine of another, a sister and a brother, beyond the skyline of our hope, into the value of the Mother, into the truth of our birth and the kinship that’s ours to remember, beyond our recent memory and into our birth, water, soil and timber… A wake up call for a story upon invisible wings, a pristine hope that’s soaring the colors blue and green, beneath the sky and the feet, my most humble needs, set to smile upon the streets. Hope that repeats, again and again and again, remaining to the neverend. The righteous man wants me to follow, the leader wants me to vote, the commander wants a sacrifice, a life for mine or mine for a life. I think I’ll vote “No”, rather be a peacemake
(The Weaver's Song)