May 14, 2001: And so…I grew to listen even more

The Lord said, “It’s time to feel my warmth. Blessed is the music of all creators—as understanding as one would assume, are as weak as the next creation. Listen not to the judgment of follower’s, gifts of creation weren’t handed to them. No need to explain what life has filled—it’s the gift of peace and freedom I bring. For if they don’t feel it…never should your judgment be on guard—freedom is the act of courage, while peace is what’s left when all other things are dead. Listen to the wind of many mighty storms—raindrops so large the streams become destructive. For in its path there’s freedom—left behind is the peace felt only through death. Before the leaf of a willow oak blooms to life, pealed away are the layers of bark which moments before had screamed to survive. The uncanny beauty of azaleas—bright, rainbow like, an essence of spring short lasted. Their buds now dry—peace fills the soul of he who remembers. I speak not of destruction to be destructive—one mans bomb can’t heal a hungry nation. Greed creates darkness, shadows so thick with pollen, the heart becomes sick forcing you to buckle at the knees. A wobbly man must sit for he’s refused his ability to brave more steps. Once or twice a vision may return, but who’s to say he remembered the azaleas