Living Neverland by Wendell Charles NeSmith - HTML preview

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ACT 7
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

December 26, 2013

The mould of every heart is imprinted within the ways they live their lives. The measure of a man is only limited by their passion and devotion. When combining their limits into compassion, a new faucet of communication is discovered which can tap us in to pure water. The direction of a soul can not be rejected. It is what it is independent of any speculations about it. And the fruits of each and every one of our labours will eventually force those around you to accept what you are. The life it takes to form a being worth respecting is one of pain. Because decay is the natural order to purify its subject.

As we reap the consequences for neglecting our God given duties to take care of our surroundings, the world will get hotter and the seas will rise. Natural disasters will become more powerful and concentrated. From beyond the clouds will the warriors of Heaven come down to judge its people. Many species will die out. The strong will unbalance the ecosystem and the weak will flee from both their responsibilities and their lives. And the weak will murder the strong and the strong the weak: those without a strong support system and with no survival skills becoming easy targets.

Here I am to worship. Here I am to bow down. Here I am to say that you are my God.

What is God? I feel. I really give everything in all that I do. I am cursed to live a life crying because of what I have done. When I saw, I allowed my mouth to open. And when it did it created complex problems. Instead of carefully considering what I was about to write, I would instead let It write me. No need for consideration of actions when those actions have become habit and have proved to deliver an extremely insightful result at the end: the character writing the book writing them. In how many ways can one individual describe light? A true prophet of God will never be short on ammunition. And this is what it looks like...

Just after describing my new wilderness lifestyle to a general practitioner and being referred to psychiatric services, I am locked into their prison: my freedom retracted like it was their choice to give it to me to begin with. Strange people, strange places, strange protocols, strange administration. A blood clot leading directly to the heart. Paper pushers pushing papers on non paper minded people. A system of fake help and correction erected to make you think that you are getting better. Or maybe not but instead accept that you are how you are and coming to these guys for help is a bad idea. The bottom layer of society who could not continue to sit at their 9 to 5 desks. A globally accredited human experimentation lab: those working for its nothingness doomed to take accountability for the souls it misdirects.