There is a mistrust spread across this world. It clenches and wraps itself around the earth, choking it as it gasps for breath. This home of mine screams out for relief as it goes in and out of consciousness. How much time is there left to live? From what cocoon does this darkness unfurl? My father does not speak of this. I was born into this place of love of self and self alone which brings to us this bone of mistrust that pollinates and gives birth. Anger was spread across the lands and wrath began to fall. But anger is not within me, and I am told that I am good. My father tells me this. But who declares what is good? And who judges those who destroy? My father is a tower of strength willing to reach down and take my hand. He stands above me from the greater heights pulling me up, and ready to catch me when I fall. He is my strength, my shield, protecting me from evil. A chain of amity and love wraps itself around us, binding us together and holding us secure. Even in times of disagreement it holds us together. My father is my guide; my companion; the foundation of a home I was never granted. And this fire inside of me is building internally within the walls of my heart. It pushes me forward, but I cannot help but wonder do not all flames die out? Can a flame endure the power of a storm and the rain that comes along with it? I trust my father. Never would he leave me nor forsake me. He is appointed by the one I have never known. But there is a fear crawling up the back of mind, weaving a web of uncertainty and apprehension. I fear a deep sleep is near for the one that I origin. A sleep from which you never awake.
Can you find them?
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