Oh for the day when the bombs stop falling. When the humans stop biting and stabbing each other and spraying everything with blood and oil. When the men remove their iron breastplates and stand tender and vulnerable in their original beauty. When the women retrieve their tongues from the lead-lined jars in the basement and sing feral and free beneath the streetlights. When we release the eels and arrows from our bellies and stop bracing for the impact of the fists of our fathers. When we vomit out the nattering humonculi in our skulls and live in our natural serenity. When we stop taking orders from the bank boys and money men and join hands with the cousins they trained us to snarl at. When we turn the gunships into gardens and make the robots work for us. When we come together as native terrestrials against the freaks with mechanical minds. That will be the beginning. That will be our birth day. That will be the dawn of a wild and wonderful adventure. Good morning.