Working together.
On a plan that they can’t share with the public…
Eyes on a prize..
A plan..
And because of the sensitive nature of it, you and I are not allowed…
Not allowed to chime in.
Barely allowed to speculate..
Hmm…
Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so..
(He’s got the whole world, in his hands)
This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine..
(zacchaeus was a wee little man, a wee little man was he…)
Some say the end is near.. some say we’ll see Armageddon soon- Aenema..
And if you think I get a hard on for those topics and feelings?
Peek your head into a church, on a Sunday, in the South.
See…
You don’t know what those people are talking about..
It doesn’t get reported on, because it is a closed community, with varying messages in each….
(a plan we cannot share..)
It makes me cry inside.
All of it.
What is allowed to happen, in the name of God..
The name of a creator.
The Nexus between worlds..
It hurts me to watch you, to hear what’s going on…
And I was just walking by a television, I didn’t seek out this information…
I wish I could make a hut beside of a river, basic creature comforts and necessities, well off enough to feed a few cats and myself.
I wish I had no access to fauxpium or tobacco..
And I wish I had no access to your world.
To your stage.
To your play.
dawn 