People. The sons of the sons of the sun and the earth. Dark and bold and alive and free. Men and women hunted by their own kind on the shores of a great land where the sun burns hot and the ground bears up bountifully, fully, It’s gonna rain, it’s gonna rain, and they are shackled up and loaded onto ships like barrels of syrup and made to sit there crouched in chains, to defecate and urinate and choke on their own vomit, in the heat, in the stench of days and weeks and months, and they will bring forth children who will die, who should die, rather than be born into this wicked world, You better get ready and bear this in mind, and they cry to the heavens and the heavens only answer in storms, storms that take them to a new land, a land of fields and streams, a land of torture, God showed Noah the rainbow sign, but the chains are not cut, no, and they are given new names, hateful names, and they are examined like cattle, like hogs, like chickens, and sent to the fields, to the mills, to the bowels of the cities, and they toil and sweat and sing songs of sorrow, Said it won’t be water, but fire next time, but the gods have new names and sit high and look low, but never reach down.

What will they see?

Wars. Wars and rumors of wars, bloody and full of woe. Wars. Of men who raise up arms against their own brothers and die like so many insects, men who, out of greed, power lust, envy, honor, jumbled and misplaced, seek to rule, Come by here, my Lord, Come by here, while the sons of oppression are freed only to be bound up again and again and again, with invisible chains and ropes and painful snares, and they are hunted and murdered and burned like torches that light up a thousand thousand nights, nights full of screams, nights full of horror, nights full of sorrow, Kumbaya, my Lord, Kumbaya, Kumbaya, my Lord, Kumbaya, and they will sing to the gods to come and they will speak with tongues like as fire, Someones crying, Lord, Come by here, O Lord, Come by here, but there is no Pentacost, no Ascension, no Passover, they bear offerings, but they never seem good enough for these fickle new gods.

Lord, what will they see?