Moses and the Burning Bush

Lightning, the sky lights up, from nowhere, a bolt of light descends from the Sky, air traffic control that was close, missed by inches, a loud crack, the terror and screams nearby, it could have hit us. Solomon listened to the news, he was burning the green at the time, then heard the news, could it be real, the earth was on fire,

fire it seems. If a healthy environment is our get out of jail card, then everyone on the planet was getting a reminder, and as in olden times, when God chose to use a burning bush to communicate with his Prophet, many thousands of years later, the same was happening again. There were those bent on the destruction of the living environment for real short term gain, as if we hadn’t enough palm oil already.

Yes, the various environments needed support; the creator could only do so much, our free will does the rest, choices. A student of the ancient texts and striving to get a clearer impression of what it all means, Solomon thought the timing of the burning bush was apt, given that some world Leaders were meeting together, and talk was of the burning bush, not that it was meant to appear on the agenda, but when fire rages, who can afford to ignore it. Imagine, they meet up, discuss, never once wondering, if the fate of the burning bush, was a clear message to them, well, leaders lead, they don’t build castles in the sky.

Thirty thousand feet, the engine wobbles, everyone on the jet trembles, former certainty wanes, could this happen to us as well, yes it could sighed Solomon. Stories such as Moses and the burning bush, are there to remind us, of the many ways God communicates with us; this is a living planet and it does not belong to you, amen.

The Lonely Parent

tired overworked and emotionally alone, she comes home, soon she is medicated and out for the night, anything to escape the dreariness and relentless pursuit of life, she has a baby sitter, routine, TV remote TV remote TV remote supper bed and More TV, it’s all routine, children lie awake among this routine, no stories to stir their hearts and move their minds, they lie there wondering often in fear, what condition will she arrive back in, who will be with her when she comes in the door. hours fly by her spirits high, she stumbles across tables smashing glass misses her eyes, she falls into the arms of a new lover,  can’t walk without assistance, he helps her into the taxi, pats her as she flops by his side, she’s at his home or crib, crib sounds snazy doesn’t it, well it can also be hell, get it, he undress’s and relieves his pornographic mind, twisted and tormented by so many of those images we all pretend to ignore, like those shops for adults that children keep on passing by, she lies there comatose her snoring is hard to ignore, would wake a train from sleep the depth of its gassy high, she’s home again by 8, in time to wake them all up, she argues with herself as the taxi drives awhile, her mind searing glad to be alive, she can’t remember his name did she ask him,  she’s not sure she just lets it all roll by, she is home now, drops the children to school, see you in the evening she mumbles as she says good bye…they troop into school, a new day, tired and looking forward at the same time, wondering what it’s like for all the other children, and the tears they keep hidden inside…well God Most High hears every call, and…well it’s been said for years,  who am i to advise, i’m not that lonely parent, or the pressure so many are under..not me not me not me not me…