Across the invisible lines,
flowing from tribe to tribe,
conducted by hands removed,
staining the lives of children
not yet born.
Unconcerned with reason,
crazed by momentum,
free to rage

In our temples,
blessed by faith,
built by commerce,
it touches equally
the sacred and profane.
It moves without sight,
without purpose,
it is fear, unleashed

Here now, outside the door,
still beyond the embrace of real,
yet known by every sense,
it courses without effort
through every crack and seam.
With every sense perceived,
with every sense
denied

So still we wait, troubled,
there, but for the will of chance,
go I, no longer beyond the reach
of rage and fear unchecked,
as near as within.
And now we run,
but not unmarked,
not hidden

never hidden