p reghiera of one who is lost, and therefore , to honest, pray for me.
Good Lord God, have patience, it's me again.
Well, here things are going well, more or less, they arrange, in practice, then there is always the way of escape, you me capita, in short, the problem is not that.
The problem would be another, if you have the patience to listen. The problem is this path, this beautiful road that runs and runs and assists, but does not run straight, as it could or even would know how wrong, no. Curiously discarded.
Believe me (for once you believe me) will come undone. Having to summarize, he goes a bit 'here, a little' beyond, taken from sudden freedom. Who knows.
Now, not to belittle, but I'd explain this thing, which is what men, and it is not from God, when the road ahead that has been discarded, you lose, you shelling, disappears, I do not know if you have this, but it is easy
who have not, is one thing to men in general, lost. It is not that stuff from you must be patient and let me explain. Matter of a minute. First, you must not mislead you by the fact that, technically speaking, one can not deny it, that road that runs, runs, assists, under the wheels of this car, actually, wanting to stick to the facts, not discarded at all.
Technically speaking.
Continue straight, without hesitation, so even a fork, nothing.
Straight as a die. I see myself. But the problem, let him say, he is not here. It is not of this road, made of earth and stones and dust, we're talking about. The road in question is another. And do not run outside, but inside. Here. I do not know if you have this: on my way. We all have a
, you will too, that among other things, are not foreign to the design of this machine we are, all of them, each in his way. A way into everyone has one, which makes it easy for the most part, the task of this trip this one, and only rarely, there it complicated. It is now one of the moments that complicated. To summarize, it is that way, the inside, that comes undone, it was defeated, blessed, no more. It happens, believe me, it happens. It is not a nice thing. I believe that you found the Flood, was in fact an ingenious idea. Why find a punishment, I wonder what is better than leave a poor man alone in the midst of the sea. Not even a beach. Nothing. A rock. A derelict wreck. Not even that. Not a sign to know which way to go, to go there to die.
... I know perfectly well what's the question, the answer is that I miss.
runs this coach, and I do not know where. I think the answer, and in my mind it gets dark. So this darkness I take it and put it in your hands. And I ask you Lord God to keep him with you only one hour, keep it in your hand just enough to melt the black, to disband the evil it does in the head, the darkness in my heart, that black, would you? You could even bend down, look, smile, open it, steal a light and let it fall that so much to see him then I think, to see where it is.
A small thing for you, so great for me. Dear God Hear Me Lord? It is not asking much, just a prayer, which is a way of writing the scent of expectation. Write down where you want the path that I lost. Just a sign, something, a light scratch on the glass eyes of those who look without seeing, I see him. Write one word written on the world to me, I will read. Touch a moment of this silence, hear. Do not be afraid, I have none. You slip away this prayer with the power of words, over the cage of the world until who knows where. Amen
ocean sea
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