Dawn arrives, either slowly, almost unseen, hiding in the grey clouds, or exploding like a miracle, exposing the darkness.

Most on the earth do not distinguish between different sunrises or sunsets, for that matter. Most stumble, unaware of the gift of a new day. But , what if it’s the last day? Will we be stuffed into a handsome steel blue or grey casket, the silk lining embroidered with the words, ” Going home.” though the activity, the living of this passed flesh life never indicative of what was deemed as ‘home.’ ( the deceased never expressing a view on heaven or hell ) will they say at every funeral “This was a ‘good man or woman’ ? Whose standards will be used, God’s, or mans? Who attending will discern the difference? Who will care, likely, no one . The deceased’s life only mentioned in whispers, as the funeral guests chirp and mumble about the dead, as they get in their cars and go safely home.

Find yourself in the light.

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