Whoever has been broken in this has been blessed. With our filthy fingers rummaging and pawing through the refuse of shattered dreams and to hopelessness in the rubble of mankind. There are these tears, the human lamentations of those who have been forgotten on this planet. And just maybe, forever?
Not everyone has forgotten you though because some people get the call and they heed the spirit which is Love, requited laborers who feed not only with purpose of attending but with the promise of everlasting peace if they emulate the Expression.
Remember there is no perfect one on this Earth, or the stars or anywhere else. Who saw the Universes violently explode, matter finding expression through torrents of Plasma. We can only imagine the spectacles of lights as stars flourish towards their own imminent disaster.
So what do we believe in? A short journey through this world, where we hatch plans to step on others? What about that man who is down with snot and tears upon his face? Or the dirty child with so much love only to see pain and be in want?
Who really stops? Me? Only by grace! If I write and I have talent, where does that talent come from? Where did Einstein’s or Stephen Hawking or Leonard Susskind? We are on the verge of something epic, I guess we always are?
We can talk about theories or dusty canonical literature and still nothing that we do (or very little) really does matter much. Like particles we operate in a bubble like a Brane World. All the elements are confined there.
But the real life comes from within and works it’s way out. The culmination of intrinsic truths and fiddles humming paying homage to a Light above all light. The kind of light that makes us slaves to truth and a reliable friend to our brothers and sisters and comrades to the Knights of every nation.