The magic of autumn is when the leaf dies to be reborn as storm and Flower Like smoke dancing in the Hecatomb, that strange ambiguity between Beauty and Destruction The spark between the Yes and the No We are men of rock and salt, but also we are stardust, the clay of the cosmos. We are universes of stone that come alive. That is the struggle, as it has always been, the struggle between poetry and death. Minute by minute, weapons are produced and exported throughout the world. and while we sleep, bloody wars are fought and when we wish to wake up, death strikes our door … Weapons are part of our life in the military culture which surrounds us. And violence is spread like a virus among people we love. With their monstrous enterprise, death and destruction are sold as a guarantee of peace, justice and progress through their accomplices; the media of communication. They are the only ones who benefit from its network of dark shadows which contaminates the air that we all breathe. We live from day to day in uncertainty and our future hangs in the balance, between madness and freedom. We oppose this monstrosity with the gentlest, most sensitive, delicate and most human: poetry. Poetry made by people who have begun the most urgent project of humanity – the overcoming of violence in all its forms! Light shining in the Void. A Tunnel connecting source. with destination. A Future that animates human breath. Here we are, in the search for our true destiny.