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Vignette: Love Crusade
In the ruins of old America, the army of sensitive young men marches for love and glory.
The titans are awake in the season of roses. The TRILLION DOLLAR WARBAND embarks on a great crusade for love. Everything is surely wrecked but their hearts are strong. At their head go twelve men of power on twelve white horses.
(Is it true what they say, that the rivers flow with milk?)
At each city their ranks swell with flush-faced youth, bodies hardened by sun and steel, bearing vessels of purest spring water which upwells from fissures beneath the earth. They are gathered by the spring wind, the way is marked by petals and the music of stringed instruments. They make their shrines in grassy riverbanks and sun-lanced forest glens of mythic America, and the e-girls fall at their feet.
(Is it true, that the hills sing again, as they did in the beginning?)
The rumor of their purpose goes before them borne by starlings that swoop over the fields in the ecstasy of broad summer days, they march for the consummation of great purpose, and nothing can stop the mass of them, not the censors, the ticket-takers and transcript makers, the nay-sayers nor their parent’s laments, as they throng the roads and hillsides in their millions.
(Is it true that we’ll be together forever?)
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“I saw many group of small birds, when the weather slightly changed, this waterfall so big that a small wind would make spray of water everywhere. Sun came from behind clouds and spread many small rainbows, birds would become excited, come out from crevasses in rock face and would glory in the sprays of water and the rainbows, they swoon doing acrobatics this way and that. Like when Homer says that on some Asian meadow tribes of geese, and crane and long-necked swans glory in the power of their wings above it, then land between the rivers, in Skamandrian plan, with a great clang. Is not enough just to say, what is purpose of this survival or reproduction?” BAM 2