… and not so much as an escape either, but rather as an acceptance of their shorn lot and curse, and as a movement towards a tribunal, where no trees or other life existed and where they would be forced to contemplate the stark searing stare and voice of Almighty God all day and all night, pounding out their flintless existence upon rocks, into huddlesome shelter, and cupping the occasional drops of rain in their hands as a glorious nectar given them by Almighty God, yea though that water be only their tears, forever and ever, until death them do part, or until a sign of blinding light lifted their cataracts.