This Story Is About Love, Which Means

Give Us Power, Give Us Light To Holdall Love Within Our Breast's Small Space.

Resurrection, Like Politics, Makes Strange Bedfellows.

All The Human Beings I Met Were Either Sure That There Would Be No Afterlife Or Else That They Would Get Preferential Treatment In The Hereafter.

It Was A Shameful Thing That She Had Nothing Of Which To Be Ashamed.

Beauty In This Iron Age Must Turn, From Fluid Living Rainbow Shapes To Torn, And Sootened Fragments, Ashes In An Urn, On Whose Gray Surface Runes Are Traced By A Norn, Who Hopes To Wake The Future To Arise, In Phoenix-fashion, And To Shine With Rays, To Blast The Sight Of Modern Men Whose Dyes, Of Selfishness And Lust Have Stained Our Days...