Of course these two men must meet, they must be placed in the same room and then they must be prodded to set it off with each other regarding the annals of all they know about us being Black. Great vividness in the telling of our stories would be cast in Babylonian stone by their hands and then born forth in the drumbeats becoming crescendos in the belly of the earth. Elaborative oral histories rocking between the two of them, enough to make Dr. Clark, god of gods, smile that his children know so much in this new age. Oh there would be a tumbling of thoughts to fertilize the bemoaning wilds of our dying oceans. The emerald green coat of the globe would shush itself into silence, so that she too can hear them talk. Long into the heat of Summer and the cold of Winter these men would converse about what is up and what is down in the scope of the trials the tribulations of Godkind. Somber their moods drunk their verbiage on all the chronicles they would unfold within the room I lock them into, a holy room for ascetic meditations on our lot. Like fetuses bursting from the seams of nature, jumble of legs and arms, hearts and minds, spirits and souls, being birthed from their tumultuous ribs they would recreate the past the present the future. Oh how wondrous it will be to see the black silken web of knowledge they would weave within that holy cell. And out of this web, cracking forth from the eggs of a spider, a cosmic boa would appear and swallow all the lies of the history books and then into itself it would wind its body, into its own mouth it would slither, until only the dead skin of its past would remain, which within the many hours of their talk, would crumble into sand, be picked up by a Northerly wind, and then returned to the abyss of time. In their talk, the beauty of existence shall show itself to the angels who have forgotten us in our plight. Causing them to learn again the dances of creation. Oh rare is the man who will not want to witness their words, even rarer the man who will not want to join their dialogue which I know will start with the darker children of God, but will eventually touch on all the children of humanity who crave a better truer sense of reason to the twisting of the world.
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