The white walls have turned Grey and are cracked and in need of repair. The harsh words that were spoken have ceased to matter. The air is thick with the smoldering remains of a long fought battle. Hearts are shattered and the ground is white with the salt of many tears that have been cried. Hope is a wilted flower in a garden bereft of life. No birds sing, only mourning can be heard as sighs of anguish rings out. The world that two people built lies in ruins. All is Ashes and none remain to remember why, or perhaps to even care.

Stand your ground and grip your sword. Look around as the cities slowly crumble. Hold the line of your fortresses and do not mingle with the people who court death and decay. Given enough time the people who aspire to nothing will wither and die like a flower in the midsummer sun. We need only reject their ideals and withstand them for a while. Eventually will erode their resolve and their experiments will turn to dust. Then when they have drained the life out of their possessions, we can simply sweep them into the dust bin of history and move on with our own plans. So just let them fall and crumble, we will have victory soon enough.

Man made spires reach to the heavens as eyes look down on us all. We perceived ourselves as Gods as we sought to create our own creator. We look at our history and deny what has been, as if it could not happen again.  In every moment we hang on to our self imposed reality like it were shreds of paper torn up into confetti. Hoping to piece back together our own version of how things should be, then as our ideas crumble and we seek to fashion our new God, the truth of what we fear has come to be. We know that we are not alone, but we deny that anything existed but our own world created from our own depraved imaginations. Then on that faithful day, all of the eyes in heaven went silent and the earth shook with a rumble as the veil of reality was torn away. The dimensions between here and there were peeled back and the visions of prophets and fools came to pass. Despite many warnings and histories lessons that we ignored and said could not be repeated, there it was, a city shining in the heavens. A vision made real, but we could not bear to admit it. Called by many names and believed by only the few who would dare to hope, the return of what was and is again. To some it will be salvation and to others damnation. Not in the way that one might think, but the damnation of the fact that the prophets and fools were partly right. The foretelling comes to pass and a new age has begun. Like the telling of childhood fantasies, a new kingdom has come. A jewel glistening in the ethos, the light of a million suns blinding our senses. At last all things will reset and man will once again be placed on a path of truth, as those who made us have returned to finish there work as a city made not with hands but foretold of stories from old has finally come.

An old servant sat quietly waiting on the young kings beckon call. The young ruler was impetuous, while the old servant came slowly. The king would make a declaration and then quickly change his mind. The old servant would just wait quietly until the next proclamation came. Days passed then month and years and the old servant grew even more tired and Gray. The once young king was now older and had lost some of his vigor. While the old servant sat quietly in his place awaiting the kings beckon call. One day the king called and someone else answered to his whim. He asked where is my servant, the young man said I am he. The king cried you are not my servant, the old man waits on me. The young man said yes that is what he did, but now he is gone you see. I am his grandson and now I will answer your call. For death has taken away my grandfather and he has left me to come at your beckon call. The king was disturbed and shaken, a dark shadow fell over him that day. For finally he realized that one day death would come for him too and that someone else would take his place.

We are like Ants on a mound of dirt. We dig into the earth but change little. The earth gets tired of our interference and moves to correct us. The longer we wait to hear the message the harder the lesson will become. It matters not how many or how few we are. Some Ants have vast numbers and some live in small dwellings, but when the rains come many are washed away and some do not survive at all. So lets us take stock of what we think is permanent. Seventy years will get us all if we are lucky to get that. While the earth measures time in Eons, we are just dust that it will stir up and blow away. The earth changes violently and subtly, it remains while we simply fade away.

Reading opens a door to a different world. Knowledge expands the vision beyond brick and mortar walls. The pages are cobble stone in a path to ascension. Words of inspiration remove the veil of ignorance. A book lends itself to new ideas and oppertunity. An educated child can lead the world to a better place. A book is a cure for poverty even in the most hopeless place.

When I walked among the flowers you planted I found peace. When I heard the birds singing my soul was at ease. When I saw you in the morning light, I fell in love. When I was in the garden with you the whole world seemed right.