Dance In the Fire

Dance in the Fire The storms will hit soon. The cellar is full. The water jugs are lined up. How long...? At least thirty days... but in reality, thirty years. The crops are still in the field, even after we gathered, all that we could. The door to the barn will remain... open, until shut by God himself. It is not my place to question the rain. Only to feel it as it falls. From heaven, down upon the world. Giving a drink to the land, the people, and the souls... that cry out. If there are only ten? That is what he asked. He was answered. Kneeling and praying for others, not even himself. Why do Christians make some angry. It is not a question. It is a fact. Written backwards, to be read forwards, by dead and fallen "want to be's..." too cheap to pay for wood, to make their own cross. Yet too rich to know... they have been used and hung up for others to see, at the expense of their own, life, and family.