The earth will bleed black blood. Scavengers will suck it up and spew it into the air. The sky will darken with it. Denizens of the earth will breathe ash and brimstone. Water will thicken and choke them. From the deep pools of the earth’s blood will spring forth a bush and a bramble. They will engulf a great nation, strangling it until they encounter a rock which will not be moved. The rock will become iron, and the bush and the bramble will crumble beneath it. The bramble and the bush will be forgotten and the sky will brighten, but the earth will strike back at its tormentors with ferocious fury.
The least among us, born of a volcano and said by his enemies not to have been born at all, will be lifted up by children, and even those who hate him will claim him by defacing his image to make him one of their own. Defilers will try to smear him with filth and he will be cleansed. Howlers will try to drown out his words, and he will be heard. Under his tutelage, the denizens of the earth will heal their wounds and will bind the earth’s wounds as best they can, but too little and too late.
Mother Earth will devour her children.
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