Bithlar’s Texts Of Prophecies
Day 5: These past few days here at St. L’s Monastery have been trying for me. I encumber myself with the difficulties of life, and the atrocities of man, invading each others realms with their specialties for war torn nations to overwhelm the rapid waves of the ocean with the fires of Hades.
Tell me, my Lord, as I sit here on my knees in prayer before the alter, am I to be the one to falter along the roads to disembodiment of the whole. I’m lost in this breach of the son.
I’m writing my thoughts down in this journal to record all that ails me within my heart of all hearts.
I see nothing but the crane age that seeks to devour my spirit with it’s hunger for destruction.
I see the magnificence of the sun that falls asleep, at the same time the moon peeks out of the shadows to show his face. He is a song the eludes every pedestrian heart in the dance of fire. Tolerant as I am of the brigade before me, I must rediscover myself, if I am to speak of the unholy of the unholy, so I may cleanse the soot built up in my soul, so you can remiss my failings, and vanquish all but the truth.
I’m sauntered in the waves of the ocean where my spirit cries out for the people to come into my sanctified visions in my hour of remorse. What more can I say about the predators feeding on flesh of man, and the longing to be cleansed of the sin in this world.
Lord, you begot your only son to come down to Earth, and cleanse man of his sin through his own bloodshed. So, tell me, my Lord, my Heavenly Father, why do the songs of the past plague the present. I fear this disease of the soul shall weave it’s way into the outer limits. What can man expect of his life when he sacrifices his own brother’s and sisters, for the sake of his selfish tendencies. For this is nothing but evil to the core. I must enclose these pages of my seasoned mind with these frugal words of wisdom. For only the begotten descendant of the distant stars can hear my song which causes the heart to ache for furthering this disjointed plot of the unmerciful toward the meek and the lost. For this angel of the sky shall bleed out the calling of all warriors to shed their venom, and let it trickle into your rivers to become clean and pure.
Can the shield of the night be the one to emulsify your children, and shower the earth with breathtaking beauty composing nature, and the lulling to be brought out of the lungs of your children? I can only hope these vessels I see in the stars can reap the reward of what they have sown, so shall it be delivered justly as each one deserves, as each one has earned throughout his life.
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015
Response to our Inspiration Call on March 28, 2015
Photo Credit: © Radius Images/Corbis
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