It’s the 11th month of twenty, twenty five.
The rewards of life were not lost on Mary, her sons were gone, taken from her by demons born of women, their fathers devoid of reason. Her first one to be taken as she gazed upon as his bodily fluids dripping from him as his life force bled away would become an idol although those that followed would not be on the same True path but one of folly.
It was something she had grown up with as a young girl and all through her life, crosses bearing those that stood up for the truth. She had watched the city on the hill burn to the dirt and her sons had helped rebuild it, as Masons do from the sturdy ground. They wore their God with no shame, a problem for thieves of the sheep, calling themselves Shepherds of the pasture, the animals following blindly into the nothingness.
It’s today again, the past is still happening, people following systems when given a false way out. ט
Be still and listen
One day I will tell you a story
Michael rose from the air…
I have twelve minutes; eleven now. There is reward for living a good life instead of one of excuses and fake forgiveness. If I were to build a religion I would explain and teach we make these rules for the betterment of all because bad behavior is should be shunned and those that take the trait of evil behavior removed from Terra. Three minutes; one now, making stuff up; this is what we all it these days partially observable Markov decision process.
No comments:
Post a Comment