Wintry Metaphysical Night

Ann Arbor - Dec 20, 2004, 5:15 a.m.

On my talk to God I feel he is there, it is a most impressive current. I know of things and he knows I know, nonetheless the power I have is enough to energize not to obliterate, it's essence is peaceful, it's manifestation mighty bizarre, irrational in the least. People who cannot visualize the sea cannot see the sky and that's the lesson I gather from the flight God catapults me to plight. My life courses like a merry-go-round of intense movements. None suave, all swift and definite. Affliction is for those who surround me who should not suffer from sea sickness for I know only the gale winds, I do not know the calm, tranquil sea. When I look at the sky I hear that Mars has got the sea of tranquility, that level of temperature is solely the peace I inspire and expire. Expiration indeed is the key word at work here since extinction is at bay, it's elemental skin is without my boundaries and I know it stalks me day, night and also in between the twilights. I'm on the alert for God wants me so as for me to see the might of his might whenever he desires it so. His soul is might itself and his quintessential being is wrathful for the creator destroys in order to construct and then again to destruct so as to create. I wonder if he's stuck in this maze since I never really thought the carrying of the rock to the top and letting it roll down to the bottom to just carry it to the top again was fit for God. T'is more appropriate of us humans not of him. He wants to see how we perform the task but more importantly he would like us to catch the prey and stalk the catch so as to glimpse the horizon as it dims itself beyond our inner grasp. He's no fool, a lot of negotiations have gone by and take place each step of the way, be them at my little universe or in my vaster world but the whole planet is being accounted for our acts, MAMAGAIA then if you understand this universal meaning!

I feel there is no time for revision since the sword must be precise and exact the opening as if it were there to heal and not to steel that wound. The cry should be mightier than the planet for only the soul knows such thunder can blunder the blow. Stopping the whisperings and admiring the mysteries which abound within and around. God is all within and without, we've got to insist to be appointed to him and by him like a hymn when it is heard can still the world and calm the draft which insists to persist its never ending debacle between gay and nay, night and day. My God please give me the cue and the ability of precise aim so that I do not miss all the prizes you display right in front of my skull in order for me to howl "skoll" to the universe once I hit my mark and all is unraveled upon me by thy merciful yet precisely impeccable blissful bliss.

Thank you God for giving me a chance at divine chance!