BUTCHERED PREY-AGE

Every plague-stricken second, a star that wants to shine dies and dies again. The ash-dust of falling comets signals the approach of the end of the world for this terrible, terrible age. Men reduced to beasts have all gone wild.

The vengeful fists of vengeful fists are rattling, and the murdering death is raging. In microcosms of cellular molecules, defensive bloodlines, immune bastions are destroyed. Those who once proclaimed their health nimbus in sun-tanned southern glory are now mummies wrapped in deathly sheets, mere old men.

The desperate echoes of inhuman agony reach us daily. The media channels broadcast unbearable, unfortunate war conditions in the space and in a whole series of deserted Nineveh cities. Pressed together, trembling, the thin patients, condemned to their mortality, tremble; in each one's lethargic gaze another derailed plea is lost.

Life or Death?! For that was all that could remain. In a motionless, gloomy, silent landscape, the animals are silenced, too, deliberately put to flight. the gangrenous wounds of new blows of fate wound our determined brave will, and bring us to our knees by the lymphocyte mass of disease.

We stand at the perishing edge of Being. We watch vigilantly, if we must, scapegoats and witnesses may be needed. Whenever the dying heart of our earth falls upon the shrieks of agony, it cries out, "Why did it have to be this way?" - Our miserable, discarded dreams that we may one day be healthy again remain just childish, naive dreams.

A plague more foaming-mouthed and rabid than a scavenging wolf. Who can tell? The secret of a life-saving vaccine, how long we shall live? - The sounds of life, biting, chewing, and howling like a raging infant. It would be so good to help with outstretched, selfless arms on the wings of chords that are so long-ending and so short.

Each tiny little life should not be a mere fluttering, hangman's petal - but a hopeful redemption that all may not be lost! The bone is cold as ashes, and heats no man. Romance in love is not a thing of beauty. The habitable, sacred home, as we called earth and world, is now the battlefield of the prey we have torn!