Protection is no transgression,
But to slay is a stain upon the soul.
To protect demands sweat, devotion, and toil,
To kill requires naught but the hunger of the heart.
Those who shield the weak are scourged by wicked hands,
Those who spill blood are exalted as gods of the fleeting world.
Protection seeks to perpetuate life,
Killing rends the weave of creation.
Protection is born of compassion, steadfast and unyielding,
Killing is begotten from skin, gold, and ravenous greed.
The righteous are condemned,
The slayers walk unchained among men.
Paper is worshipped as deity,
Yet the Living God is forgotten.
Trade to give life unto many,
Not to extinguish even one.
Blessed is he who guards—his reward in the eternal realms,
Cursed is he who slays—his delight a brief shadow upon the earth.
They wail as their kin are torn asunder,
The killer feasts upon their cries, and laughs in the blackness.
The protector acts with purity of heart,
Granting only the sustenance required to endure.
Lo! Great in name is the Council,
Yet their worship is of paper, not truth.
As is the ruler who forgets his oath,
Blind to justice, deaf to conscience.
Cherish every creature,
For they know no sin, they bow to no tyranny.
And ponder, O mortal:
What world would remain,
If thou wert the hunted, the slain, the voiceless?
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