The Tenth Year of the War

And it came to pass that on the eleventh day of the ninth month of the first year of the new millennium, which the Gregorians call September 2001, violent men stretched forth their wings and toppled the great towers of Mammon which soared from shoreline to sky. In all that came to pass that day, fewer than a myriad souls met their deaths in the flesh. But a cry went up into the heavens, and the lord of the Western hosts made ready to war against the sons of Ishmael.

And of the sons of Ishmael were slain a million, of warriors and women, of priests and children, for the lord of the West waxed wroth, and spittle flew out of his mouth, and he would that for each one dead among his people, a hundred should die from the metal locusts of the wind. So it was done, and to this day it continues.

Thus ends the Lesson.

But not yet the War. For the heart of man is desperately wicked: like a bad candle it fouls the air, but does not die; it gutters but is not put out.