we find meaning where we can, otherwise there may be no meaning. the chaos society produces threatens to overwhelm all sense and instinct and truth. we may find bird poop runes. we may go a little crazy trying to find meaning in all this human war ordure.

but what if we were to consult the oracle of the birds? we know, i believe, deep down in the inverse sky of our belly what the oracle will say, and, once we know, will continue to say, til the last bird is a skull sitting in a doll's chair on a golden retriever's warm furry dome. the empty sky breathing in the small skull will pronounce clearly and succinctly—please do not destroy our only home.