Glory falls around us as we sob a dirge of desolation on the Cross and hatred is the ballast of the rock which his upon our necks and underfoot. We have woven robes of silk and clothed our nakedness with tapestry. From crawling on this murky planet's floor we soar beyond the birds and through the clouds and edge our waays from hate and blind despair and bring horror to our brothers, and to our sisters cheer. We grow despite the horror that we feed upon our own tomorrow. We grow.
გამოხატეთ თქვენი აზრი მოცემული ლექსის შესახებ კომენტარის სახით!..
