Can’t cope, can’t concentrate, you keep on running and those problems they keep following us. Life was a field of lava, it was all depending where you were. watching it from afar it’s not serious, up close it can all become consuming. He wondered, the flow of the lava and the human flow, or the race. He wanted to create a sermon that would help the congregation, they had been terrorized to long with the message of doom and damnation. They needed hope, a version of it that would stay in their minds. maybe that is the reason Jesus spoke in story terms: the legend would pass on, and while it may altar according to the sort of people who relayed it, basically, the use of terms common to that particular culture, the nugget would remain the same. That’s it, he saw it. The lava that flowed down the mountain, were the troubles that followed you, the problems you never dealt with, while salvation was the truth, how simple did that sound, how would he put it into the sermon, the performance was an hour away.
The congregation was thin, and the empty aisles were bare, he thought if it was himself, was it something he had done, was there a reason. He was dwelling on the day, he wondered if what the young man had said to him, you have to make it interesting, the boy was animated when he spoke, had a thirst for news, the news that changed lives. Interesting, what he had been doing for forty years was more than interesting, it was the spreading of the word, he was getting old though
, tiredness of the spirit was setting in. Many of his friends, had retired, he was one of the older ones with the zest, he had more to give yet. He washes at the basin, watches his reflection in the mirror, what would you do he said as if speaking with his Spiritual self. He let the thought remain in his consciousness as he finished the nightly routine, interesting he sighed, I’m only one man he cried.
Fill the aisles with flowers, what do you mean said the young man, taking orders from the older man. Flowers, we want to make them feel they are in the field of the lord and not some building, atmosphere. There was a van full of multi colored garlands, a gift from a benefactor, they were an over supply from a wedding that got cancelled at the last moment, he dresses the aisle, running the garlands over the oak timbers. The band members are coming up the street, it’s three in the morning, they are on the way home. They notice the commotion at the door of the church, they notice that the door is open, lights are on, but nobody on sight. They stop, they are about to report the matter to the local police, when the young man emerges from the church, a garland in hand, one too many.
The band members listen to his story, the pastor wants to liven things up, and get the Spirit moving so he is redecorating the church!
At three in the morning says one of the members of the band, a big fella, with long sideburns, he looks like Neil Young.
The priest exists the church, where is he gone, where did the helper go! He spots the group outside, the band members he recognizes, they are a famous group. Just when I was worried about the music he sighed looking up. If this doesn’t move the Spirit, nothing else will. He wonders where to stand them when the church has it’s next gathering, on the altar or to the side, he is not worried about them being heard, half the world knows who they are.
The old priest wakes from his dream, it’s seven in the morning, he is refreshed, an idea hits him, communication communication he smiles, did I dream that as well?
What’s great about a flood, every ancient and not so ancient generation, have experienced one, Solomon was being vague. You speak in riddles some say, he sighs, sometimes it easier than saying it straight, it’s less offensive for starters, but talk of floods, he experienced a few himself, and learned. The talk across the world was of the sexual disease that seemed to attack almost anyone with a semblance of power. A new story, another victim, another story, another and than another, to a point when it is all they can think of, sexual crimes. The last thing the world needed to hear, another victim, another big name hits the dirt, the press is foaming at the mouth, in newsrooms they glance at each other, what about bob, what about john, what about the 300,000,000 under tens with access to the adult web, the real flood they all ignored. It was simple math, the Spirit is a living heart, real living heart, and the young hearts carry the hope, they have soul, meanwhile, while the adults rage and tell their stories, this flood is ignored, as if it wasn’t happening. It is easy get distracted, and human nature was forgetful. 50 million die in the last great war, all of them victims, a flood of evil forgotten.
The demon and his ilk were glad to have the focus on the current imbalance, while the real flood continued unabated, as if there was nothing the could do about it. Solomon sighs, he wrote is a long time before, the simplest of solutions. Then a friend shows him the dark web as it it called, a zone off the main internet alley, where security allows anything to be traded, and it’s all legal, someone was fooling an awful lot of people. Say the prayer he sighed, it usually worked to halt the evil threat.
The morning comes, the preparation is made, the breakfast, a few texts from friends, ready she sighs, her new school, a new experience, friends she hopes to meet, and the teachers, hope they are good she prays. The effort made to educate and teach, the habits passed on, and the harvest down the line many years later.
Solomon was remarking on the cycle, how it begins, slowly, how influences are made, and the affect it has on those we meet. It was the story of old told another way. How we lay down steps from our actions, and the perspective of the student, who puts their trust in you.
There is a bad happening, the president is reacting, everyone is watching, how will he react they say. If he calls for thoughtful reflection he is considered weak, the usual mongrels only appreciate the hard talk, peace is for the weak ended. How those looking on behave as a result, after all, they have a students perspective, and try to trust in those that are teaching them.
disheartened gambler and age was not on his side, in the cauldron of fire he fills his heart with hate, like an abusive soul whoever was nearest got it, he simmers under the surface his real intention never far away, one day it is going to burst and then explode, his friends laugh at his weird remarks, seriously you don’t expect us to believe it, then the news and the horror that he created, what was he expecting when he took the last bullet himself, questions on the minds of many how one could hate so much. Mother father children friends and relatives now steeped in sadness, the useless carnage proved nothing, just an assault on the defenceless, when they were least expecting it, amen.
was there any meaning to the horror, Solomon sighed. In the heartland of the dollar, the Christians are martyred, the signs of old control all around, memories of kingdoms that had risen up and died. There was a lot of symbolism, was it
another warning, amen.
The meeting is being held in a very upmarket hotel, it’s a special, well, it’s special cause the company is confronting the public, all good so far, every question answered, then the door opens, there is a clatter as the door closes hard, thought they got rid of me he thought, they sent him to the wrong location, cause he was trouble. Alcohol and responsibility is connected, it’s even the law in certain places, and good reason too, in order to ease the trouble.
Thought you got rid of me he says reaching for the microphone, the room falls silent, what is he going to say next. Sitting alone one night, watching the TV, he was mesmerized by the growing number of gambling sites aimed at single women ,this wasn’t gaming aimed at those who like to gamble just, they were aimed at lonely single women home alone at night, rather than reach for the booze, why not play the slots instead, and like the secret drinker, no one will ever find out.
The pink dollar is aimed at the pink culture, the baby market is aimed at the parents to be, but aiming a destructive activity at women, single women too, was pushing the boat a bit too far. If the heroin dealer aimed his product at the vulnerable, well, what would the response be. Mr Trouble makes his point.
The eyes that see, the nurture that’s unhealthy, the stuff your conscious can see but you hide away from, for fear of exposure. Society had a strange way about it, Solomon was questioning his own example, and then questioned the stuff young souls were getting exposed to, radiation of the heart, the habits that children imitate because they want to be like you. Around children, the cigarette is hidden, the heart is mindful, a metanoia happens, an unconscious awareness, perhaps it was why Children are a gift, the chance to renew. Who wanted that renewal to be tainted with bad habits, was it necessary to have every indulgence before them, teasing them on one hand, making them envious, tempting them for the future, exposing them to the radiation of human weakness. Lots of DNA was full of all sorts of experience, what’s in yours, what were you exposed to. If you could bury your bias, imagine it, you wouldn’t pass it on, not directly. On the other hand, if you practiced good habits, isn’t it easy to recognize it. The talk was of a world united in One faith, it was a casual conversation, just follow good example and wisdom, the best form of exposure there was.