Oh there’s a tumbling roar in my stomach, oh there’s a sizeable chunk missing from this place in my brain where things should be ordered. Should be threaded together and woven and wondered but oh no there’s a raging fire ripping through my trunk, the base of my roots and the limbs of my truth. There’s a message being pounded from the grass to the grain to the rain and to all consumers consuming consumption. To all radios blasting resonance and to all boxes building bones. To all homes rounding the corner of disaster and to all radiance spreading out from the center to the center to the little curling edge of the circumference of my mind. Which is not really a mind. Which has not been a mind for some time. Rather, a large circle within a circle radiating through a labyrinth of mystery someone wants to call thought. This is for humanity. This is for faith. This is for love.