TRUTH: Has Love turned murderer? Priests, whore-mongers, government. You are all hucksters of a woman's soul, Compellers of defilement.
POET: Who puts a blot upon our sister?
TRUTH: Society, a pack of wolves tearing the flesh of a doc, Trembling ; submissive ; helpless. She were not shamed unless you shamed her.
POET: The beasts of the field have purer knowledge. Motherhood for love is sufficient.
TRUTH: Does a god sell his god-head? Or the fisherman cast back the pearl which he has drawn
from the deep? Shall the keepers of Life willingly deliver Life unto
Death?
POET: Is it you, my sisters, who are poisoners of the blood. Or they who make of Nature's love a spotted thing ? Have the keepers of the blood, that wondrous juice Which has crept from out the farthest rift of Time, Chosen to pollute the blood? Have the mothers of children chosen to destroy the child?
TRUTH: How beautiful it is to see the bitch huddle her blind
puppies ; The cow lick her trembling calf with adoration. Must we not marvel that the shy doe will return To her death at the bleat of her fawn?
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