At the regional airport in Waco, on the third day
of the war, we stand barefoot, as if on sacred ground.
As each in turn is beckoned, we file mutely past
the metal box that peers into our carry-ons and coats,
examines our watches, our wallets, our shoes.
Behind the box, the guards, solemn as celebrants,
peer into the mysteries of a sleek leather case
Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they will have the right to the tree of life and may enter the city by the gates. Outside are dogs and sorcerers and fornicators and murderers and idolaters.... - Revelation 22:14-15
A voice whispered in my dream:
Either you love or you're happy,
but never both.
Go to the Cyclops, to their metalworks, to buy your armaments—