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The Rock of Time
I have weathered the storms of ages and I have completed all the races; the clouds have broken away in the skies shining the light on the multitude that is trapped in the dark, mankind has fashioned the world with material made from the earth, they have built gigantic ships, airplane, fighter jets and everything that is bigger than the human frame.
You look for the God of the ages among all the human races and you cannot find it, because it doesn’t exist, something is out there that is bigger that man and it is not the pope in the Vatican, the Greeks have created it and the Europeans brainwash it and serve it in the missionary dish and the people dilute it and spread it.
They continue to believe the myth of time and they say that the deity is divine; the Europeans have created this phenomenon and rub it in the brain of the poor peasant sufferers.
I have always sought the truth that is saturated in my youth, the blur memory of yesterday has gone away and the residue of time keeps floating on my mind. I have read stories of old about the ingenuity of mankind soul and the beast that is trapped in his mind and the anger that is bubbling up inside.
It sprang up from the East and spans throughout the century when mankind first emerges as savage beast, hunting in the woods looking for something to eat and so he develops a cannibalistic nature and prey on every living flesh that confronts him in the epicenter of death.
Oh, how the world stands as a vast rock around me, and new vision is melting inside me, the rock of time will reshape your mind and the universe will draw closer to the earth. The trees in the field will expand and every human on earth will own a piece of land; the resistance will break through the gate and your spirit will be free.
Courage will escort you on the stage and destiny will renew your age and the rock of time will embrace you. Be still and listen careful to what the universe is saying to you, let go and let love flow.
The rock of time cannot break, the rock of times has a fortified gate.
Copyright ©
Christine Phillips
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