A homeless mother just wants to see her child again. She tries to get  back up on her feet. Though she cleans herself up, no one sees what she has done. They just see a ***** woman that once lay in the street. An alcoholic father finally says enough, and gets into rehab. He cries everyday over the family he almost destroyed and the lives he has brought harm to. All he wants is a second chance, but others judge him for what he has done. He caused many great pain, and simply wants redemption, but in the eyes of many there is none. The world is full of broken people who just want to try one more time. Their past haunt them and they are often reminded of their failings, but in some way aren't we all broken people as well?

In a dress of silver with shoes of blue, her hair filled with golden flowers. Bridesmaids in bright golden gowns arrayed with pearls and lace. All things fall into place. Trees are filled with bursting colors that set the stage, all rise and hold their breath. Down an aisle filled with flowers and leaves. Now comes the Autumn bride adorned in regal splendor. A vision to warm the heart and melt the ice of a winter to come. A gift of grace, poise and love.

From the gold wings of an aircrew man to the silver wings of the green beret, to the aviators wings of the fearless pilots who touch heavens heights. To the seals and submariners who fight with stealth and precision. Freedom rest on wings earned through sacrifice and discipline. It flies in the face of danger and adversity, with a shield and sword, it is borne by our sons and daughters who rush in to harms way. Wings of freedom still fly because of the sacrifice they make.

When day break comes and the nights shadows begin to fade, I awaken by your your side. I gently stir and look to see your there, I watch the suns first rays shine off of your hair. I lay silently and listen to you breathe. I want to touch you and know your real and that this is not a dream. I watch you until you slowly rise from a peaceful nights sleep. I look on as you begin to move and I wonder if this is still a dream. The form of your body glows in the morning light. I simply sit and watch my love and know that all things are right.

After all other ways have fail. When violence and anger accomplish nothing. When the drugs can no longer **** the pain. What is left out there? In a state of hopelessness, a wear soul contemplates the unthinkable. What is one less person they think. In that moment of desperation, a glimmer of hope sparks to life. A kind word or a gesture is remembered. The seed of hope has been sewn, perhaps in an inadvertent way. By someone who speak of Jesus, or did his command. Kindness has opened the door where hope was lost and shown that perhaps there is another path.

Ganges giver of life's water, flowing through a mystical and vast land, heart of so many lives. How you have been afflicted by the changes in time. If only people would stop and listen to the peaceful song as your waters run deeply through the land. In silence they would hear your cries and see the peoples tears. Those who reverence you are at a loss for the things that you have suffered in the name of progress. If all were taken back and let to run its own course, you would bring hope and life once again. Until then your children will weep for you and pray for you to recover until you become beautiful and full of life once again.

If I offer you bread instead of a bullet, will we begin to talk? If I accept that your beliefs are different from my own, can we begin to understand one another? If I come to your aid without seeking to change who you are, will we then have peace? Standing across from another person half a world away, it is often difficult to see eye to eye. While one set of values governs our thoughts, another path has influenced a different way of life. In order for us to get along, we must first find common ground. Only then can we plant the seeds of hope and peace.

The teams were matched up and the game had been hard fought. Both sides were tired and sweat poured off of everyone. Every piece of ground and every point had been earned with sacrifice and pain. There was 18 seconds left in double overtime and the next play would decide the game. From 40 yards out a tired you man took sight of the ball. This was it, this was the kick that would tell them all. If the tie would be broken or would the game end in a draw, no one new what to expect no one could make the call. As the stadium filled with a hushed silence, the lineman hiked the ball. The place kicker set up the kick and the kicker let it fly, but just as ball was let loose spiraling into the air, it came crashing to the ground and was running away from the field. For what had went unnoticed from the sidelines and what everyone had forgot, was a Golden Retriever named Alex, that was the home teams mascot. Doing what he had been taught to do a thousand times before, it was his favorite half time trick, with it the Hunter dogs would always score. So free from his leash, he rushed the field and true to his call, Alex stopped the game as he retrieved the ball. No one will remember the hard work that went into that game, but you can be sure that they will remember Alex's name. For in that one viral moment you can almost bet, that funny dog will forever be seen on the internet.

I look at the news on my television and I see the ocean of people fleeing from fear and hate. I open up my morning paper and I see a story about a ****** and a ****. I feel so dejected and hopelessly alone. I ask myself what does it matter, how can I go on. Though I try to do that which is good and help out when I can. I see the never ending suffering and the tidal wave of despair. I want to climb to the highest building I can find and ask does anyone else really care? I know that each time I offer help, I am supposed to be giving hope, but I cannot see the outcome of what I do and I am not sure how to cope. I sometimes feel like I have thrown a pebble into a lake! I sometimes wonder if it is all a in vain ? Then when I am at my lowest, I see a miraculous thing. Another person will do something selfless and I loose my despair. I feel the presence of God and he says I do care. Then I ask God does it matter, and he says it surely does. He says that each little kindness is an expression of his divine love and though I do not see the outcome. He assures me that it does grow and become a wave of compassion that in this life I may not know. So the next time you feel that all hope has been shattered, just remember that to God kindness really matters

Japanese cusine takes precison and care to prepare, life also takes great care. For some, eating sushi is adventurous and for others it is mundane because it's what they do every day. The same goes for life, living outside of the comfort zone is exciting to some, while taking risk is of no consequence to others it's just what they do. If you find sushi palatable and eat it often, then you must keep it well or it will spoil in begin to stink. Life must also be kept well, if you don't take care about how you live, some of the things that we choose to do can also have a stench about them. This is why if you look carefully you'll find that life and sushi have a lot in common.

Laughter and innocence are qualities that children posses. Imagination and wonder are seen through fresh eyes. A hundred questions they in an hour and 50 more before lunch. What a blessing it is to watch a child, what a wonder to have the gift of influence a young life.

I have no bags to pack and my departure will not take that long. Some will miss me and some will be glad I am gone. I have completed many journeys, now I have one more trip to take. I have grown weary and I am glad to make this trip. So I will say one last goodbye to anyone who is of worth. I will take my place and quietly wait until I hear my name called. All that could be done, has been given to me. There is no more wondering or waiting, this is how it must be. So I say don't cry for me anymore. Just think happy thoughts and celebrate the life I have lived. This is my final wish, makes this your final gift. So I say goodbye once more and I release all my pain and sorrow. I go to sleep and never wake, for I am leaving tomorrow.

Curled up on a front porch swing with a special someone under a blanket watching the rain fall. Playing patty cake with a two year old who is just mastering the ability to walk. Listening to an old friend as they pour our their heart to you. Holding the hand of an elderly parent as you guide the one who used to carry you. These are stolen moments that occur in life. Special times that you cannot get back and that are held as treasures in the heart and our memories.

Colors don't seem just right and words are not in the right place. Beauty is not what it should be. What others call ugly, the distorted views of the angry mind call normal. Looking through skewed ideals, the distortions make sense only to the person from whom they originate. The ways of the people who live in the shadows and on the fringes of society are often shunned and feared. Many of these person who hold problems inside, just want to be understood. Not all are monsters, some are just different and think in different ways. Only when we stop and look through the prism of their ideas, can we begin to understand the twisted mind of anothers soul.

Do not mind my presence, I will not be here for long. My footprint will not impose on your world. Just as quickly as dust blows away in the wind, so will my life be in the end. I was born a poor mans son and I have been forced to work all of my life. I have not attained fame and fortune, but I have gained enough. Soon I will fade from existence, my part in the greater play will be at an end. For the most part I will be forgotten from the minds of men. For good or ill, I will have lived my life, then exit stage left I am gone. So if you happen to take notice of me, it will be a fleeting one. I will be on to bigger and better things as I leave this mortal journey and my real voyage into eternity begins.

Weave now a basket and fill it with the bounty of our love. Sound the call to help your fellow man. Come together and join one another to bring forth hope to the earth. Sound the horn of plenty that all will know that we still care.

Walking barefoot in the park in a dress of cotton and lace. Strolling into the wind so that her perfume is carried towards you. Lips like glistening fruit after the morning dew has come. Skin soft like satin, wanting you to touch it. Hair like a ravens wing, a walk as subtle as a fawn. Carefully she glances towards you enticing you like a forbidden garden of rare earthly delights. Your heart skips a beat and you begin to sweat. Her spell has worked on you. You are enchanted with her and a wicked woman has gotten her way.

Being of good cheer in uncertain times. Holding fast to what you believe. Not knowing what tomorrow holds, only knowing that you must go on. In all adversity you must preserver, even when death may come. To work for God is not to seek self adoration, but to be a servant spreading hope and the truth of life. Though you may grow weary, your strength does not come from this world. Remembering the end of the race and accepting the sacrifices that need be made in order to obtain the prize. You may walk through fire, but in Gods spirit you will be made pure. Refined like gold or silver, removed of all impurities of spirit. Being made ready for his kingdom, to serve and live with him forever after a more perfect fashion. This is working for God.

Holding tight in each others embrace. Lost in lust in a private place. Heaving chest rise and fall, naked and entangled in night were lost. Found in rapture, in the heat of the night. Deep sleeping beyond the mornings light. Holding each other as if our lives are about to end. Taking pleasure from each other again and again.

I sit on the veranda and look out over the fields. Across the land scape of the vineyards that have been cared for with my own hands. As the sun sets I raise a glass of my own making, a fermented bouquet of wine in celebration of of life at sunset.

Long ago in foreign lands, I stood quietly with a gun in my hands. In the midnight hour I walked the line. I watched the horizon for trouble from the sea. I was far away from my loved ones, as far as one could be. In places where I did not belong, I went to answer duties call. I was part of a greater good, one among many. I did not complain, for I had raised my hand. I was willing to pay freedoms debt, no matter what the cost. Where others now walk I once stood. I stood the watch and answered freedoms call.

You were a point of focus to inspire the soul, an anchor when I was adrift in the world. A reason to continue when there seems no point to writing. Oh how you encouraged me to reach inside and find the words. You gave me hope and showed me paths that I would not have traveled on my own. I drew courage from you as I saw the truth in your work. Despite your imperfections, you are a beacon to my frustration when I have lost my way. To lose you is to see a part of myself fade into nothingness, how I long to hear you speak or to see you write again.

Bullets fly off of the shelves, rockets are sold by the pallet load. ****** is the business of the moment. The next most advanced gadget is designed to protect you from an unknown threat. Billions are spent each year on death and mayhem. Generations are raised to hate and take up arms for causes that have long since been forgotten. The original dissenters in what ever argument that existed have long since faded into the nothingness. Now the endless war rages on, with blood merchants profiting from the misery of children and women. People are born into the horrors of conflict, not to know peace but to know suffering and oppression. Seeing no end to the endless war and conflict that profits few off of the blood of the many.

We look but we do not see, what is in front of us. We walk through life with narrow vision, and we do not see the worth in others that are not like us. We cannot view other people as more than they are, we are blind to new ideas and yet we have perfect sight. Our own ignorance gets in the way of our seeing many evident truths. Our intolerance causes us to walk as a blind man in broad daylight. Try as we might we cannot pluck the obstruction from our soul that causes to be judgmental of others.

I bow down and give up my burdens. I turn from the fight. I lay down before the cross of Calvary and seek to know your will. I sit in silence and wait on heavenly guidance. I accept the will of the one who made all things and seek to be taught his ways. In all things I surrender to the supernal power of the most divine. In humility I seek only to serve as a vessel for his will. I wait empty for his holy spirit to fill me. I shall be steadfast in the masters hands, until I  become what he wants me to be.

In human years the world seems to move by slowly, but in truth mortal lights flicker and fade out. In one moment we are here then in another we are gone, while the earth moves on without us. To hold a belief that we can make a permanent change to the environment is an illusion. We may pull up dirt and rearrange a few stones, but in the end our attempts at change will fade. Just a mighty kingdom and it's treasure will be split when it's king is gone, so is the way of humanity. The best we can hope for is to make a positive difference in our limited sphere of influence, for the world upon which we live will only abide so much change before nature corrects the imbalance, so let what ever change we make, be for good and not ill.

On balance the scales have been tilted. Truth has given way to spin doctrine. Equality is not what it should be and the lady has lost her blindfold. The court of man has failed as it has forsaken divine guidance. Now the bribe has blinded justice in a different way. The unfair balances tilt in the favor of the powerful and the well to do. Poverty which was once a problem is now a curse. In hallowed halls that once gave a voice to the oppressed, now the kings ply their trade as politicians speak with silver words. Justice is worth the price you can pay for it and the unwashed masses are left to fight over crumbs in hope of finding some favor and redress.

I sit wrapped in an old shawl, I hold my favorite cup tightly as the coffee steams in the cool evening air. I look our over fading green grass and the golden glimmer of the days last light. I rock back and forth in my swing as it creaks with its weathered wood from ages gone by. I see long shadows as a cool breeze flows through my hair, cascading dark strands with streaks of silver gotten from hard won experience and mistakes made. I smile at all of the things I see and feel all of my sorrows slip away, as I watch the last rays of day fall into a cool starry night, I cast off the remains of the day.

Spread upon a table lays a white and silver table cloth, upon it are golden candle sticks lighting the buffet. Cakes and Pies laid out in rows, surrounded by cupcakes and sugar cookies. Grand maw's famous fruit cake is a centerpiece unto itself. All wonderful treats abound, enough to put a diabetic into shock just by looking at the table. So tonight we dine and indulge, on a feast fit for a Ginger Bread king. For tomorrow, we will feel the sugar hang over and curse our pallet for now we cannot fit into our skinny jeans. So in repentance we will purge, all the week long, high fiber low calorie meals designed to cleanse our colon and our soul, but this is only a brief respite from our culinary debauchery, for news years shall come and once again we shall binge out on too many sweets, only to be forced to the church of fitness by making atonement at the alter of pain so that we might fit into those favorite jeans before spring. We shall live in food piety, until another holiday full of treats tempts us again.

Howling winds push dark sail towards unsuspecting shores! A pail moon shines through dark foreboding clouds. The silence is broken only by the sound of the waves crashing against harden hulls filled with hardened men. Iron is sharpened and steel glistens in the faint light. Dogs howl and the mid-night watchman has weary eyes. Then in a torrent of violence, the barbarians rise up from the darkened rocky shores. Tearing past the watchman as he is cut down by an arrow quick and sure. Into the keep of the unsuspecting, by morning light widows and orphans abound. As quickly as a dark mist they cut through the hobbles of the unsuspecting and hauled away the gold, the silver and the fair maidens. Leaving old widows and young children weeping and in terror that they might return. The quick knife of sure death has plunged itself into the hope of many who did think themselves safe. Now they have withdrawn waiting on the dark seas beneath the howling wind until they strike again.

I close my eyes and clear my mind. I let my spirit rise and venture beyond the mortal shell that holds me. I look into the darkness and see the shadows of the world beyond where my soul dwells. I watch them dance and flow along life lines. I look into the heavens and see the celestial bodies as they move in synchronous alignment. I listen to the songs of the ethos as sounds mingle with voices from other worldly places. I allow my mind to be opened to the impossible, as I move forward peering beyond the veil.

Hopping onto the back of a horse drawn wagon, as you watch the sun slowly set. Wrapped up in a blanket as an Autumn wind blows cold across your face. Snuggling up next to someone special as you watch the stars come out. A hoot owl calls out from down a distant hollow. The road is a little bumpy as the wagon moves along. Your nose gets itchy from straw and you sneeze. The harvest moon rises over empty fields where Pumpkins once lay. A hay ride welcomes the fall in a very special way.

Direct your efforts that what makes a positive change. Open up your mind to new ideas and possibilities. Step into another persons shoes and walk with them to help carry their burden. Stay fixed on the goal at hand. When you endeavor to make a difference through determination and resilience, things can be made better when we truly focus on change.

On the cross Christ bled for me. On the cross he set the captive free. On the cross he showed the manifestation of Gods love. On the cross, God became man. On the cross sin made it's final stand. On the cross, Christ broke Satan's bands. On the cross he died alone. On the cross he inherited a heavenly throne. On the cross was God's only son. On the cross the fathers will was done.

I could not believe my eyes, when I saw the horror of it all. How could one man endure so much pain. I felt his anguish and my heart was ****** through. I agonize to just think of it. Such a young life taken, for no apparent reason at all. Then to be ****** through with such cruelty. I saw the tears of his mother and saw the water flow from the wound. I was broken and fell to my knees. At his last moment, he looked at me with piercing eyes and as his side had been pierced, so was my own soul. I surrendered to the wounding of my spirit and repented then and there. Now I strive to heal the wound and mend the scar, that I found at Calvary.

Rainbows in the night sky, pathways to some mystic plain of existence. Northern lights dance and dip through the vast open darkness. Like a divine ribbon being played by a child, it tosses itself too and froe. A spectacle to be observed in the waste of cold and unforgiving lands. It reminds the heart of what wonder can be. Opening the imagination to tales of the divinity of our origins. Mattering not what you may believe those to be. It sings with a voice beyond the ability of human ears to hear. Serenading the universe as it billows round the northern sphere. What a wonder the northern lights are to see.

I started out the night with a few cocktails you see. I meant no harm, to no one, not even me. I saw a pretty girl and began to talk her up. I thought with my four leaf clover I might have a little luck. Well with my Irish charm and boyish face, it wasn't long until I was invited back to her place. From there it gets kind of blurry, but there is one thing for sure, I won't be celebrating like that anymore. The rest of the night disappeared and turned into mid-day. I rolled over to see where I was at, and the lass that had decided to stay. I stumbled out of bed and pulled the curtains open wide. I found a desert oasis was on the other side. I washed my face in the sink, and tried to get awake. I wondered how much liquor I really had to drink? I made it back to try and find my clothes, when the pretty lass woke up and ask where I was  going to go? I said I am not sure what the situation is, but I had a really good time and perhaps we can do it again some night. She just smiled at me and said we can do this all the time, for now I am not a stranger, but we are husband and wife. She showed me the shiny new ring and the wedding license signed by both of us I think. So now I am a sorry sod, working my fingers to the bone. To support a wife and soon to be child, in this apartment I call a home. So the next time you want to party and take a pretty lass home. Remember not to drink too much or to kiss the blarney stone.

I will stand up for what is right, I will be a beacon in the heart of the night. I will Stand up when I hear the call. I will help my brother or sister when they take a fall. I will stand up when it seems to do no good. I will enter the battle, I will stand up and be counted. I will make my voice heard above the torrents of hate and rage. I will stand up for what I believe though others may disagree. I will seek out every injustice and try to make it right. I will never tire or give up the fight. I will stand up until I draw my last breath. I will take a final stand even in my own death. When they right of me, they may not find many things to say, but that I stood up, when it is your time what about you will they say?

To all things there is a pattern. Life as nature has a certain rhythm. Old things pass away and new things take their place. As one flower blooms, another goes out of season. To each thing there is a time. In all things this rhythm exist. In some instances it can be seen, and others it is more subtle. No one can truly say why some things exist longer than other, only that the rhythm continues beyond mortal time constraints, constantly rebalancing itself. So that it can maintain the flux of the journey that everything is set on.

Straddling the floor in a perfect split, arching my back and bending over backwards. Standing on one foot upon my tip toes. Flexing my arms and legs in many an ****** pose. Wearing form fitting clothing to show off every curve. Hand standing upside down is among the things I love. Putting up my hair in a bun nice and neat. Approaching the mat with smooth legs and bear feet. Taking a turn then flipping backwards and landing with a thundering bounce. Twirling a ribbon as I prance about. Showing how agile I am as I strut my stuff! Flying like a eagle into the air and hoping I was good enough. Doing all of the things I love, finishing with a contortion pose in clothing that fits like a glove. Being an acrobat is really too much fun.

I will pray for you in the midnight hour. I will pray for each and everyday. I will pray for when its not convenient, I will pray you in every possible way. I will pray for when I am very tired, I will pray for you in a quiet place. I will pray for you until things are made right. I will pray for you until the end of my days. In all things you shall be remembered each time I talk to heaven above. I will pray for you until you are made whole and mended by Gods eternal love, I will pray for you.

I sit in the judgement seat awaiting my fate. I thought I could get away with it, but I was wrong. I didn't mean for it to happen, it seemed funny at the time. I didn't think the cat would really mind. Just a few pieces of tape on the little cats paws. I didn't think it would be that bad, now I wish I had used the dog. When the little cat was let loose he had a panic attack. He rolled and flopped trying to get it off and then I heard it go crash. Into the china cabinet, as he was headed for the door. I tried to catch it before it hit the floor. My mothers favorite china, a giant serving plate. Now I sit here waiting for my fate. I begged for here to punish me, but she said oh that will never do. I want this to be a family affair, I want your father here too.

Floppy ears, cotton tail and whiskers. Eating Carrots out of the garden and lettuce heads out of the patched rows. Oh brown bunny hiding among the leaves, how you annoy me in the summer heat. I labor and sweat over the broken earth only to lose my toil to you as you wait for my seeds to be given birth. What a sight you must see from your lowly position, hunched in the thick briars waiting for buds to shoot forth. A feast for a vegetarian king, succulent morsels to be sampled. A head of lettuce here a few carrots there, leaving a patch work of ruined vegetables and the loss of my sweat and toil. I clean my gun with ill intent for you, my disdained foe. Oh how I long for your demise. Then at the moment I intend to bring you down, I am thwarted to my surprise. No longer do you nibble at my carrots or dig through my rows, I see a truth that brings me low. For you oh brown woodland hare you are not my enemy, but tis only a part you play. For my granddaughter has adopted you and brings you to feast in her play. So I must let you live in a fashion, for while you may sample my succulent delights in passing, the truth be told your freedom has been taken from you. Now you are a child's plaything and thus in a form you have experienced death, as you will no longer gallivant freely through my garden, but are at the pleasure of my granddaughter as her pet.

From the depths of dark oceans to the emptiness of clear blue skies. From unknown empty deserts to desolate high mountains. The fight for freedom knows no place and the struggle cannot be measured in time. As warriors and comrades we keep the watch. Focusing on the mission at hand, whether on a submarine a hundred phantoms down where no one can hear you scream or in a occupied village where cowards hide behind women and children as special operators deal out lethal justice as the tip of a righteous spear. We must carry on the fight, no matter what the battle field. Away or at home we are the strong and the brave. We few sacrifice for the many and must hold strong to each other. Never wavering always ready to answer the call. Never leaving a comrade behind, whether on the battle field of  a foreign land or on the battle field of recovery hear at home. As one unit a band of brothers and sisters, together we must carry on.

Can I share your pain, can you lend me your sorrow, if only for a little while. Let me have some of your misery, let me cry with you. If you can give me part of your burden, then I will take some of your sadness too . Then you can find rest and perhaps some joy. I will hold your worry for you, don't be in a hurry to get it back. I will keep it safe until you need it again. It is often easy to share your laughter, and to share your love, but as a true friend, I will ask if I can share your pain. Because I cannot be happy, until I see you smile again.

See the noble hawk as he flies to the sun. Hear his cry of freedom. Watch a feather fall from his tail, see it sail to the ground on the still air. See the native who finds it and gives reverence to the great spirit. He has received a gift from his brother. A great hunter who walks the wind, seeking where he can go. A red feather from the noble hawk is given away, as the bird climbs to touch the heaven and make friends with the sun.

In a dream, I see the white snow covering the landscape. All is pristine and white, like a blank slate. The flakes can each be seen, an individual master piece carved to it's own design. I feel no chill from the cold, only peace and harmony. I walk barefoot into the white and realize that I left no mark. The snow felt soft beneath my feet, but I walked as light as air upon it. Then looking back, I saw no imprint. I looked around and saw that my clothing had become radiant white. I wondered for a moment what this meant, then a inner voice said that this is your story. The snowfall of heaven has wiped your slate clean and you may write your own verses. What you imagine will be so and what you do not wish will not be. I awoke from the dream and looked around and saw snow begin to fall. I realized that I had been to another world where all things are possible, but for now I must walk through this life in hopes of reaching my dream.

While walking on a path that I had chose, I came to a split in the way. To choose or not to choose was the question that perplexed me to this day. I could not go back the way I had came, for the doors had closed behind me. I could only go forward, but which path to choose. I sat for a while and pondered the decision, weighing each option carefully. Finally I walked down the way that seemed to fit my life's plan only to have a some regret. Then at the next juncture of my life, I looked back over both paths and found they both lead me to the same place.

I cut and claw to get outside myself. I wash until I am red and raw. Noting seems to clean away the feeling that I am trapped in the wrong place. I scream inside my own head until I can't even think. Why am I caught inside of myself, why can't I get out. I look in the mirror and my image is mocking me. I want out of this place, but I can't shed my own skin. So I cut and scratch some more, until the blood drips from my wrist and neck or until I find a way out of this prison I am in.

I was looking through old things one day, when I found a faded envelope. I was plain and non-descript. I looked at the address and it just said to a friend, so I opened it to see what it said. While the envelope was worn and faded, the letter was crisp and new. The paper was colored gold and it had a royal emblem on the page. The words of the letter were beautifully written in the most unusual hue, the ink was the color of Scarlet. It said dear friend, I am glad you have found this note. I was wondering when you would open it, I have been waiting for so long. I want to tell you how glad I am you are reading it now. I know that you have been lost, but I want you to know that you are now found. All of your confusion will be forgotten and all of the answers you seek will become clear. All you have to do is ask and I will draw near. I was stunned by what I read and I began to shed a tear, then I read the final line and my heart broke apart. It said just know that I died for you and I loved you from the start. Your friend Jesus. I knew then that I was not alone and that I would never be the same. The day I read the letter written in Scarlet blood, that was shed by the king of kings.