TUG OF WAR PEACE There’s no set date. End the madness of time. Bunch of damn fools tugging on the line for arbitrary points remain out of reach. I am. We are. Home is Heaven beneath our feet. The tide is in control and it is surely coming. Make no mistake, Peace is here, so is Love, the story will not wait for some fool to make their plans, the Scribe assures it as Creation demands. “Rise up!” And so it shall be, echo back to front. November eleventh, December first, January one, or then or then or twenty-fifteen, exactness has no limit and truth does firmly come. __mrp
(The Weaver's Song)