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A PRAYER OF DELIVERANCE
Dreams are sometimes strange, prophetic, and very revealing. They can also be very realistic!
In my dream I am standing atop a mountain called the Listening Rock. I am looking down upon my home and the place of my birth. The house is long gone, but a lonely old lash horn pine tree that stood guard over my home for years marks the spot. As I look at this special place I can also see armored columns of steel bulldozers, rooting arteries of asphalt and concrete through sacred ground. They are followed by mindless masses from Plastic City, hell bent for pleasure and diversion!
I cast mine eyes of deep regret
Upon this majestic scene!
My crib, my cradle, on the block
A portrait, beauty, scarred,
Obscene!
I weep.
Soon, we will bring our children and kneel at the plastic shrines erected for their secular idols and ask in utter despair:
Where is the passage
From this prison of air-cooled comfort,
In which we hide our face
And deny thy true purpose, Oh Mother Nature?
Where we kneel at the altar of false gods
And worship idols that defile thy face!
Where we marvel and wonder after abortions,
Conceived by impure minds,
Created by unclean hands,
And forced from thy unyielding body - - -
Then bask in delight at our own baptism,
By immersion, in sin and corruption!
Where is the ladder leading forth
From this pit of iniquity
Where man has been led,
With words of deceit! Oh Mother Nature?
Lured by his own greed
And trapped by his own ambitions
By bartering a free soul for false security
Then broadcasting invitations to his own kind.
To dine at his table of misery and discontent,
Attended by former guests
Now reduced to mere servants and court jesters!
I turned aside and looked into a small pool of clear spring water. In it’s reflection I could see the horrible and grotesque portrait of self-indulgence.
As a child, I had always heard that if you ran fast enough you could meet yourself coming back. In my dream, and with this thought in mind, I took off! Somewhere in that vast expanse of timeless infinity, I reached out and shook hands with a small, barefoot, freckled-faced kid with a happy grin, a pair of bibbed overalls and a greenback dollar. The façade had crumbled and I marveled in the wonderment of my completeness now reflected in the cool, clear spring water.
We wrote us down some country songs, some stories, some bald-knob ballads and some mountain rhymes. We started with a prayer, a prayer of deliverance.
So, gather again this wretched soul
To the comfort of thy bosom!
Cradle me gently in thy arms
And sing softly to me, Oh Mother Nature!
Carry me to thy lofty heights
And show unto me all thy handiwork.
Then, bring me back beside the still waters
And play with me in quiet solitude.
Brush my cheek with a tender kiss
And when my time is come,
Lay me down gently
And let me rest in eternal peace!
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