First Trial

He says we must take up our cross to follow him and that his yoke is easy. One must hole back the rushing river made from desire melting at the peak. Standing, awaiting, the wall of water. To hold it back. To keep it from allowing to grow terrible and evil things in the fertile soul. Yet every moment, the weight increases. The Son melts the cold, hardened ice to give the soul liberty from its threshold. Eventually, at long last, it lessens. The soiled water begins to evaporate as the Son continues to work. It heats the water asunder into ether. The fist burden is through, but what water passed through your grip has begun to cultivate evil below. Evil that grows in the soul is tougher to destroy than that of the infertile peak. Alas, another trial awaits.