The true poem rests between the words.
A cure for War? Furiously spending the same daily amount of money toward making friends. Being an indispensable source of food, shelter, peace, and cultural support dedicatedly spending 9 billion dollars a month on helping people would be a formidable enemy of evil.
The real story is not the plot, but how the characters unfold by it.
The only sins are violations of Love.
My body is an avatar.
Money is only a human invention. I get paid for my work, it's a system of trade, but it's not my purpose and reason for living.