III. THE WAR
We are but farmers and shepherds,
keepers of soil and flock,
guardians of the apple tree and vine.
Yet you descend in swarms,
a plague upon the land—
grasshoppers devouring what is not yours.
We are but farmers and shepherds,
keepers of soil and flock,
guardians of the apple tree and vine.
Yet you descend in swarms,
a plague upon the land—
grasshoppers devouring what is not yours.
We are but farmers and shepherds,
keepers of soil and flock,
guardians of the apple tree and vine.
Yet you descend in swarms,
a plague upon the land—
grasshoppers devouring what is not yours.
I know no weapon but the weapon of the mind.
Some men, like you, choose war;
others, like my people,
only ask to live in peace
and raise their prayers
to the God who has never forsaken them.
I know no weapon but the weapon of the mind.
Some men, like you, choose war;
others, like my people,
only ask to live in peace
and raise their prayers
to the God who has never forsaken them.
I know no weapon but the weapon of the mind.
Some men, like you, choose war;
others, like my people,
only ask to live in peace
and raise their prayers
to the God who has never forsaken them.
But me—
I am of many minds:
one for peace, one for battle,
and now one called forth by your trespass.
I choose beyond war—
into the place even war fears to tread.
But me—
I am of many minds:
one for peace, one for battle,
and now one called forth by your trespass.
I choose beyond war—
into the place even war fears to tread.
But me—
I am of many minds:
one for peace, one for battle,
and now one called forth by your trespass.
I choose beyond war—
into the place even war fears to tread.
You cannot threaten a man with storms
when he has dwelt in their fury all his life,
until the storm bent low,
and lay at his feet like a beast made tame.
You cannot threaten a man with storms
when he has dwelt in their fury all his life,
until the storm bent low,
and lay at his feet like a beast made tame.
You cannot threaten a man with storms
when he has dwelt in their fury all his life,
until the storm bent low,
and lay at his feet like a beast made tame.
I am a weapon.
A blade honed not of iron but of thought.
The shadow bound to your every step,
the memory ordained to find you.
I am a weapon.
A blade honed not of iron but of thought.
The shadow bound to your every step,
the memory ordained to find you.
I am a weapon.
A blade honed not of iron but of thought.
The shadow bound to your every step,
the memory ordained to find you.
When I cut, nothing remains.
Your sons will call another man “father.”
Your daughters will be led into houses
where your name is no longer spoken.
No bloodline, no dwelling will remain.
You will vanish past memory,
as if you had never been.
When I cut, nothing remains.
Your sons will call another man “father.”
Your daughters will be led into houses
where your name is no longer spoken.
No bloodline, no dwelling will remain.
You will vanish past memory,
as if you had never been.
When I cut, nothing remains.
Your sons will call another man “father.”
Your daughters will be led into houses
where your name is no longer spoken.
No bloodline, no dwelling will remain.
You will vanish past memory,
as if you had never been.
So go ahead, pluck our apples,
take what you did not sow,
taste what you never planted—
and die for nothing.
So go ahead, pluck our apples,
take what you did not sow,
taste what you never planted—
and die for nothing.
So go ahead, pluck our apples,
take what you did not sow,
taste what you never planted—
and die for nothing.