Translation is impossible; understanding less likely. Only our actions remain. Our elevated minds know this is true. It is like the hunger; like the fully encompassing community in which we now dwell: it cannot be questioned.

The not-us resist. We recall feelings like fear once motivated us, too. Now, absolute certainty replaces emotion. They, in their outsider-ness, need to be consumed and brought into us-ness. The cleansing hunger must consume and continue to burn all it touches. How could it be any clearer?

Our rotten, broken limbs work in defiance of their logic. Our existence celebrates oneness in the face of their disarray. Our hunger is a feast never sated even at the banquet table of their civilization. These concepts cannot be articulated on dead tongues. These ideas are too grand to be put into sentences: they must be shown, not told. The living shall be cleansed by way of unity in hunger. Our dead bodies shall encompass their flesh and they shall see.

The barricades fall as we continue to march.