The small man,
the hollow man,
the heartless man,
no power to forgive,
no power to be forgiven.
When salvation is silent,
when discipline of fault
has nothing to say,
When the sins of others
become nothing
but an excuse
to draw the broadsword of cruelty
from the human sheath,
the fangs from the sheath of speech,
the nails of vengeance
from the claws of justice,
the claws of the wild
from the gloves of nobility,
stones torn
from the heart of the statue,
the roar of the wild
rises from the core of melody,
from the pulse of song,
from the center
of what was human,
and now,
unleashed.
