What we need to think about every time we see a cloud.

Who is it that said, “there are no ribbons in the sky”? And I ask often, what manner of man is God? Is the reflection that you would see in his eyes a fleeting glimpse of your own inner beauty. Or is it just a vision of the question answered, do dead men dream for all eternity of what could have been while they lay beneath the beautiful uncut hairs of graves?

When asked, would he at long last disclose the sacred secret as to why you love so deeply? And does the love you feel last until the rivers no longer flow south and the mountains become but stepping stones across now dry sea beds, and squirrels can run across the tops of trees from north to south and from east to west without ever having to touch the ground?

For a moment, please, take notice of yourself. See how your look has grown tired and old, and sickly lean. Is what you gaze upon a vision not of the evil you have been, but just a more vivid picture of all the evil that you have seen?

What you hear, are they the songs in the key’s of life, sometimes in the solitude of your empty heart that plays over and over, reminds you of lost friends, loves and moments never stolen and guilt’s not revealed? Do you hear the single grains of life’s sands as they fall gently from the top of the hour glass of your life into the bottom of it, tumbling and falling toward your own demise? Are music to your ear’s A song, each grain, becoming those song’s in the key’s of your life that become more beautiful as you age? Or are those song’s just the sound of your pleading cries for redemption?

And in the end they but bring back to the fore all that your mind choose to forget, but your heart of hearts longs to relive and remember? And in the end, I promise you that you will come to find out just manner of man God is. As you lay there beneath the beautiful uncut hairs of your grave. And you will dream the dream of all the things that could have been for all eternity, forever and a day. You will come to realize at last that Abuse is the camel that never knows the last straw. Sweet dreams friends unto one selves. Dream on