Look at your creation that is on a higher level. How its sweet melodies are repressed by the strings of overmastering fear. The buds of your orchard inhale the odour of gunpowder. Under the shades of swords your children disintegrate into the abyss of the culture of emptiness. The age preceding Noah reigns to moil man's mind to complete that cycle again. Give the wisdom of action to refrain from choking the songs of peace. Let the gleams of your glory ravage the plague of savagery for the new creature to emerge from ashes. Cleanse the air for the dove to breathe in our homes as well as in the universe.