Posted in Photography, Poetry

Personal musings unleashed…

Generations. To profess belief in simple faith and be left to wander the perilous gate… held ajar, wide open. The future bleak… shall the narrow door shut in time… before utter and complete destruction.

Ideally, we all could get along. Some stronger. Others weaker.

The problem is truth cannot be relative. Either murder is wrong or acceptable. If it is wrong, as widely perceived, it is grace which is required among the equation. This, for the person harmed and the harmer, to love and begin again. To pave a way forward with peace and hope and faith. Love is turmoil when we fail to comprehend personal actions that harm others. Love without grace is the worst transgression of all.

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