A
torch of fire leads our footsteps; our chants are unique and close in
rhythm . The echoes of drum dancing are near, how we reach them is
our choice, but they are there… the bonfire it lit… the angels
await our arrival… onward to that place… together. Let us press
hard on the path only we are allowed to dance. Only our naked feet,
only our voices in all of mankind, are allowed to permeate these
trails. We have all arrived here in different uniform; now we must
remove our old cloth and begin to radiate our new attire. As the old
cloth is put into the treasure chest the new can only be worn in sync
with one another… all of our sparkles…all of our shine and
jungles work solely in step with one another. The adventure is to to
be as we seek it to be. Dangerous and rewarding. Faith is to be our
hideout, our fort. Wreckage will come when our horn us raised, pasts
will be shaken, lives will transform in our very midst… because He
is our voice.
the lips of Heaven
