Status Updates From The Singer/The Song/The Fin...

“You healed mine!” she said. “Heal your own. Please, Singer, make them well.”

“They are well. There is no pain now.”

“But they are scarred and wounded. How can they be well?”

“Earthmaker leaves the scars, for they preserve the memory of pain. He will leave my hands this way so men will not forget what it can cost to be a singer in a theater of hate.”

“How did you manage to make them cherish all this nothingness?” he asked the World Hater.

“I simply make them feel embarrassed to admit that they are incomplete. A man would rather close his eyes than see himself as your Father-Spirit does. I teach them to exalt their emptiness and thus preserve the dignity of man.”

“They need the dignity of God.”

“You tell them that. I sell a cheaper product.”

All birth was but the prelude unto death

And every cradle swung above a grave.

The sun made weary trips from east to west,

Time found no shore, and culture screamed and raved.

The world, in peaceless orbits, sped along

And waited for the Singer and his song.

Just as I remembered it. The prose is stunning!