Pen and Paper
I am the slave,
the pen is my master.
It commands me to write,
more and more, faster and faster.
The paper is calling,
it’s screaming my name.
Why do they force me,
have they no shame?
Forced are my thoughts,
through the pen they do flow.
Who are they to coerce,
are they friends, are they foe?
I wish to stop now,
asylum I do seek.
For my hand does grow tired,
as well my mind grows weak.
But they won’t allow me to stop,
there’s no ending in sight.
They demand I continue,
so I shall… write, write, write.
Spiritual War Awakening 2025: The Truth Will Set You Free
The Truth Will Set You Free For most of my life, spanning seven decades, I have felt that a spiritual battle was taking place. At first, it was a rare feeling, then it became occasional, and eventually it developed into a sense of impending tension. What I could not have realized at the beginning of my life is that the intensity would gradually increase – you just don’t see those things coming. You often have to plot all points on a board to recognize a pattern. Feeling the Spiritual [...]
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