Hatred, Anger, War. Darkness in the Hearts of Men.

From what roots grow this twisted tree?

Where drop its tangled vines?

Implanted in Human Nature,

Fear of Death, and Pain.

A growing unease, uncertainty.

We fight to break the surface.

To breathe the air over the mud, choke each other out:

Like kudzu growing on itself, blocking out the sun.

Give every person a place.

Natural Order must always have Death.

But without Fear...

Pain loses its driving power.

And Anger ebbs away.

No world can erase Death.

But without Fear to warp our Hearts,

Why would we need to?