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In the call of the Piet-my-vrou cuckoo, the rain remembered for the last time to unfold her fruitfulness over the earth. But in the wail of the tawny female peacock, man and beast mourned in black crêpe cloth over the fall in the great drought.

So what is left of the once prosperous times to remember? And what is left in memory to ruminate on? Look, from the coming great destruction there will never again be any building up or rebuilding, because man no longer trusted in God and heaven.

That is why the lamp of Wisdom now burns extremely dimly. With nothing left for faith to hold on to. Freedom becomes a concept that few can still remember. That is why homo sapiens are now held as prisoners in the cage of an abomination-system.

Listen, the call of the Piet-my-wife cuckoo has now faded into silence. The rain began to hold herself back, stingy and scarce. But still man shows no understanding or remorse for her mistakes. Therefore, in the wailing song of the pale brown female peacock, a multitude, masses of people, dug a grave for themselves.