Our earth is wounded. Her oceans and lakes are sick; her rivers are like running sores; The air filled with subtle poisons. And the oily smoke of countless hellish fires
blackens the sun. Men and women, scattered from homeland, family, friends, wander desolate and uncertain, scorched by a toxic sun...
In this desert of frightened, blind uncertainty, some take refuge in the pursuit of power. Some become manipulators of illusion and deceit. If wisdom and harmony still dwell in this world, as other than a dream lost in an unopened book, they are hidden in our heartbeat. And it is from our hearts cry that we cry out. We cry out and our voices are the single voice of this wounded earth.
Our cries are a great wind across the earth.
~ From The Warrior Song of King Gezar
blackens the sun. Men and women, scattered from homeland, family, friends, wander desolate and uncertain, scorched by a toxic sun...
In this desert of frightened, blind uncertainty, some take refuge in the pursuit of power. Some become manipulators of illusion and deceit. If wisdom and harmony still dwell in this world, as other than a dream lost in an unopened book, they are hidden in our heartbeat. And it is from our hearts cry that we cry out. We cry out and our voices are the single voice of this wounded earth.
Our cries are a great wind across the earth.
~ From The Warrior Song of King Gezar
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