And everything an everyone paused in frosted still contemplation of the chest beating wild man begrudging the loss of his prey, a challenge that once was and would be again if the gods of battle had any say in the matter

And while their power may be on the wane now one expects the circle to be completed with the waxing of their bloodlust and the world shall be cast into shadow again

For the lightning and the thunder have their place in this world and the charge of pride can only be mitigated to some extent by the high hand of love

For we have these things in our stomachs that protest the shackles of peace and roar at their confinement and for every lock there is a key and for every prisoner there is a release

The passion held stationary, the pressured frenzy would boil its own escape fragmenting the walls of confinement to be unleashed upon salvation

The hordlings vomit forth to ash the world under a blanket of darkness where every soul feels comfortable standing on the backs of their fellows

The wild side has its own box for the lighthearted minions of the flower who will be cast down for their turn at the bottom of condemnation where they will begin their own turning of the wheel in an effort to bring about a new age of timidity.

-cirerrek