Night Bloom: A Paean to the Mutant Flowers of Darkness by T Newfields
Don:   (shaking his head) What sort of love poem is this?
Aiko:   I can't sense any love – merely a will to power.
Cindy:   It's tragic. Without love, our aspirations are hollow . . . .
Bai-Lou:   It goes further. . . even with "love" all existence quickly dissolves into dust.