Silent is the land
When will it stop, do you see how it affects us, he looked at his companion, the sky was grey, at summer time, it was supposed to be light and blue, the norm for the season. They were wondering if it was true, the stories they were hearing of divine intervention. Solomon was listening from afar, what we take for granted, what we get for free, did they not understand, life is a gift not an entitlement as some had suggested. If you use the gifts wisely and help the Spirit rise, intervention from above is forthcoming. He laid back in bed, wondering. The words of Jesus came to him, and how in his home town there were few miracles, because they just did not believe, as in doing, it was that simple. So he said a prayer, and was sure it would be okay.
He rose in the morning in a hurry, his visitor, a man of great Spirit, a race to the bathroom, a brush of the teeth, a swipe of the hair, hurry dude he said, he’s coming a long way to help you out. The phone rings, too early, not even a cup of tea, what he’s outside. He hid the thrash as best he could, this was not the start he imagined, a breakfast, a few coffees, ready. I’m outside. Welcome brother he said, do you think it will rain he said, no way sighed Solomon, and it never rained. the sun returned, just the way it always did, when support for Great Spirit was live, amen.