When the gods make love,
men make war.
An incomprehensible dance
between giving and taking lives.
From orgasmic entwinings of force and rhythm
constellations and unnamed suns are born,
while the bullet bites deep into the flesh of a newborn.
When the gods make love,
men make war
In the name of heaven
that no longer finds meaning among us.
Deeply moving. Powerfully disturbing. As it should be.
"Heaven that no longer
finds meaning among us."
Not that heaven disappeared.
That we became
the kind of place
it could no longer
recognize itself in.
— AËLA