The Missing Patch
There is a patch that you cannot see that is far away from thee, it is creating havoc in your mind and mutiny in the skies. It is leading you down the path of hell and you must pivot at the curb, or it will take you to the valley of the dead. You have veered off the path, and everything is looking dark.
There are no lights on the street, and the people gather in groups and weep at their ancestor’s grave until their hearts bled.
The wonders of this world are not riches and gold so come with me to recover the missing patch so that we can get back on the right track. Time is slipping away and I can count the days; I can hear every heartbeat and every mutter in the street. Things are not going well, for the universe is not fed. You have to search diligently for the patch and join the dots together to ease the tumultuous sorrows.
Someone had cut it out and replaces it with somethings that often shout. It should have never been there and this is what is causing the people to fear. The hunger for power has cause you to lose your way and people have scattered abroad, roosters, ducks and hens are running about in the yard with broken limbs, and they lack the courage to sing.
It was never about executive order, your sons or daughter; it was about the international order which is now fracture with added layers to it far from what was suggested about it. Everyone is running their own show, and the universe is not clear which way to go, there are no rules of war, for the international order has no weight for every fabric of it was thrown out the gate. It has defeated the very purpose for which it was created, and it has some people quite elated, look for the missing patch and join back the dots.
Monday morning comes alive and I walk with courage by my side, you have been working on it for more than a hundred years, but you cannot dry all the tears. The rivers are running low and the multitudes don’t have anywhere to go; the windows of heaven are fine, but some people don’t have a dime. Trace the dots to where you are coming from, examine the frame, look at the corners carefully, search for the missing patch and look for the anchor that is hidden at the back. There is a lane that you cannot see that is buried in the riverbed.
It was once a busy trading route that took people from one city to the next to ancient palace and temples, and men rub soldiers in bars and tea houses and go to the brothels after supper to consult with the ladies of the night and wake up the next day under street lanterns, intoxicated with whisky and rum stumbling in the middle of the street trying to find their way home.
There must be another way out to get us from north to south. The valley below is deep but there is another path to walk above the street, you need a map to lead you back to the track, examine the plot and when you find the missing share, you can correct it from there.
Men of reason don’t fight; they make deals for they have seen the light. Men of reasons don’t fight, they negotiate in broad daylight; flex your muscles and come, drink some Turkish tea or tequila under the sea, and if that will not do, you must exchange your shoe to the other crew or you start landing punches until someone starts to run.
The missing patch has the formula to complete the plot, the missing patch is all you have got, so get up and join the dot to complete the next leg of the journey.
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