Rocks are Ouch

From his breast the badger flew, raving with the madness of a thousand wizards, the screams of a thousand kittens, and the valor of a thousand mighty ducks. Upon the badger's landing, the man saw that this is what he had produced in his desperate efforts for love and knew that it could not be continued, for what would he produce next? A lamprey of the spirit? A dragon that consumes souls? Even a devil that digests the very planets in his path? No. This would stop now, with the badger. And the man picked himself up off the rocks and ran toward it, loving it harder and harder with each step. Still dazed, the badger frantically ran in circles, learning to exist when it never had before. It was just beginning to leap from a rock when the man impaled himself upon its sharp skull. The badger's gullible body would have been crushed were it not for the love that absorbed it. Alas, the rock beneath it was not chaste, and had been hardened by years of unloving life. It pierced the man's heart, where the badger now once again lived and died. That day was the first of many such events, and also the greatest of them. For no man would ever again produce such a creature; and no creature would ever again produce such a man.