A Screaming Comes Across The Sky.

It's Been A Prevalent Notion. Fallen Sparks. Fragments Of Vessels Broken At The Creation. And Someday, Somehow, Before The End, A Gathering Back To Home. A Messenger From The Kingdom, Arriving At The Last Moment. But I Tell You There Is No Such Message, No Such Home -- Only The Millions Of Last Moments . . . Nothing More. Our History Is An Aggregate Of Last Moments.

Who Claims Truth, Truth Abandons. History Is Hir'd, Or Coerc'd, Only In Interests That Must Ever Prove Base. She Is Too Innocent, To Be Left Within The Reach Of Anyone In Power,- Who Need But Touch Her, And All Her Credit Is In The Instant Vanish'd, As If It Had Never Been. She Needs Rather To Be Tended Lovingly And Honorably By Fabulists And Counterfeiters, Ballad-mongers And Cranks Of Ev'ry Radius, Masters Of Disguise To Provide Her The Costume, Toilette, And Bearing, And Speech Nimble Enough To Keep Her Beyond The Desires, Or Even The Curiosity, Of Government.

If The World Offered Nothing, Nowhere To Support Or Make Bearable Whatever Her Private Grief Was, Then It Is That World, And Not She, That Is At Fault.

Everybody Who Says The Same Words Is The Same Person If The Spectra Are The Same Only They Happen Differently In Time, You Dig? But The Time Is Arbitrary. You Pick Your Zero Point Anywhere You Want, That Way You Can Shuffle Each Person's Time Line Sideways Till They All Coincide.

We Are Here Among You As Seekers Of Refuge From Our Present-your Future-a Time Of Worldwide Famine, Exhausted Fuel Supplies, Terminal Poverty-the End Of The Capitalistic Experiment. Once We Came To Understand The Simpl...truth That Earth's Resources Were Limited, In Fact Soon To Run Out, The Whole Capitalistic Illusion Fell To Pieces. Those Of Us Who Spoke This Truth Were Denounced As Heretics, As Enemies Of The Prevailing Economic Faith. Like Religious Dissenters Of An Earlier Day.