For cultures to clash, they must contain a meaningful refutation of the other. They must constitute
a living rebuke to the opposing cosmology. They must, in short, oppose. These faiths do not oppose. Instead,
they simply dress the scaffold differently. All is secondary to the voiceless proclamation of the conceptus who briefly
knows all the secrets of the universe and observes its own destiny in the history of its people and its planet. In order
to at least partially recover this knowledge, we scribble our dreams on parchment, certain that the residue of that original
light must be in there somewhere, we become re-enactors on a global scale, pressing forward to touch a life-giving stone,
and in our sacraments we drink. But we drink to remember.