For things at a common destination there is a common path. Not always easy to see. But there.
At one time in the world there were woods that no one owned
The point is there ain't no point.
Men of God and men of war have strange affinities.
There is a moon shaped rictus in the streetlamp's globe where a stone has gone and from this aperture there drifts down through the constant helix of aspiring insects a faint and steady rain of the same forms burnt and lifeless.
It is supposed to true that those who do not know history are condemned to repeat it. I don't believe knowing can save us. What is constant in history is greed and foolishness and love of blood.