God hears these cries and Himself nearly weeps as He is not inclined to enforce His children to escape this ocean of morbidity into which they have been plunged and are now drowning. The Lord of the Garden made Himself scarce. It would be folly to attempt a revolution when the will of man was so extremely prevalent. On occasion, the Lord would make His will known, only to be met with disaster. He was murdered every time.
Mankind could not fill the world with his sea of darkness as nature herself yet demanded a certain balance, so man by necessity acquiesced to some standards of life: balance and labor in concert with life.
Some religious thought returned and original and true words were occasionally issued, sometimes emanating from the clandestine Lord. But organizations grew around these holy words until their original intent was obscured by people claiming themselves to be mediators – a role exclusively reserved by God the Father for His Son the Lord.
So back into the bowels of something satanic was man the miserable beaten again. Sometimes it appeared all hope was lost. But God the Father remained at hand through earnest, private prayer. His grace and the comfort of His presence was known by those few of His children who longed for human peace on earth and the actual return of the Edenic atmos. A climate of humanity had been entirely relegated to mythology – the mists of time having hidden from memory the joyous era of the climate of love.
The face of chaos was by many ages of man being outlined… its mammoth presence even literally blocking the light of the sun. It is monstrous and it consumes as if sucking the souls of the iniquitous. Soon, the only way out, will be for the righteous to hide together in the forests, living most quietly as they plot to make passable the way of the Lord, and the reclamation of Eden
They are the heroes. And they are few.
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