A Strand of Hair

It’s odd, on their own, a strand is easily broken, together they are strong, a good example a rope, friends are strands, in some ways, if you understand. She was talking to her aunt, they were having the face to face, it’s easier take advice from those outside the inner ring of family, they don’t know all your faults and practices, less biased. Maybe it’s why it’s easy to unload on strangers what you won’t reveal to friends, it won’t be a barricade afterwards.

Solomon imagined every prayer, a strand of hair, tie them together, you have a strong voice, something you can hang onto, even if the world sounds crazy. In this world, there was so much going on, not according to the thinking of some, sudden changes, unstable leaders, stupid decisions, babbling leaders, so much that has been hidden, is made visible again, in such times, many reach for ropes, help lines, attach themselves to cults, same way they rush to the supermarket when a storm is forecast. And even if the storm is meant to last a day maybe two, they get in enough stuff as if it’s Christmas, then the storm ends, the stuff is there, and they say to themselves, what were we doing.

Solomon listened to the words of old, a prophet wrote, the angel answered, don’t panic, you are not alone, endure and you will be all right. Imagine all those hearts, strands in that rope that never fails. On account of encountering the Divine Spirit, Solomon was obliged to pass the news on, you are never alone, and it’s only when you fear, when you are alone, amen.

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