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Jackals to Howl Their Rage


I need only produce the script of a mad man for the jackals to howl their rage.

Perhaps they’re not jackals, perhaps they’re wingless angels on earth? Maybe I’ve got it all backwards and the stewards of the eartH are waiting for me to release my cackling belief among my brethren instead of suffering for never having believed the one truth…

The singular exactness surrounded by the human imagination is something I shudder to think of, it is sorrow personified…

My love, it’s because I have not yet truly begun to waggle this speech to my family and upon the family of man that they too might sense that where they are is abundantly more important than where they imagine they’re going…

Let me rein in the chaos and rejoice like the children of April in the rain…

Come! Let me bring my laughter. Let me bring my staggering belief to a level like no other imagined! Heaven beneath my feet! If I ever imagined Heaven before, I certainly never imagined it as Home until my prayers began in earnest…

© 2012 by mark richard prime

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