Who are we to judge as the rock falls hard, disturbing the dirt. As the leaf pedals fall silently not shaking the ground and a lions roar can be heard from the distance as you know, soon it will be feasting upon its prey and its decaying rotting corpse. Rose pedals blossom in spring and die in the fall, as life continues. For where there is death and chaos destroying humanity, a bit is preserved offering new life and birth to new ideals. Chatoic mayhem running rampant through the streets as a man is gunned down in a drive by as his best friend cradles the gentle soul in his arms lifting the head upon his bussom. Coughing spitting crying as blood pours from the wounds of the soon to be carcass. The last words and yells of a mothers screams are heard echoeing through the wind. Yet in the hospital room a child is born screaming its way to the mothers bussom to feed, as the father sits and watches gently with tears in his eyes.

For action there is reaction, The consequences that we render are easily hindered by bitter fools trying to destroy what they simply can not and will not understand. It is natural for man to fear what they do not understand, and therefore take irrepetual action to annihate and kill what it feels threatened by. The law of the jungle is the same as the law of man. For we are all beasts, for we are man and man is beast.