The 7th of October

Ancestral Voices dominate this sordid Sabbath with arguments of war, dialogues of destruction. Conflicting claims on reason raise the question which is grain and which is leven, which the bread and which the oven? Mountain of Lower Manhattan swarming with abandoned faces, smoking, stinking Rock of Ages, consolidated flesh, cement and circuitry seeded by sorrow, Rise! Like vapor from a cauldron, Rise! Remains of ruin, take form and countenance, a name to summon by, eyes a fury of compassion. Draw your dusty robe about you, stride the Hudson to the sea, upon, above, below, go silent past rimed ruins of Atlantis and Titanic's fabled shell toward the battlefield of nations. Lift the innocent from the field of restitution, pluck missles from the sky like flaming blossoms. Let your head be crowned with roses, ribboned, Liberty embodied to the eyes of innocence - to others coarse, unkempt, snarled with blooded thorns, Mother of Vampires. Let the blameless see a unicorn, where others see a lion. Who dare's ring History's fatal bell and pave the road to Heaven with the cobblestones of Hell?

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