PROGRESS

MORE CHANNELLINNGS FROM THE COMFORTER.

They live....Mayhap they've lived too long;

Pausing, in their nightmare, quest;

When sanity creeps in, and ask themselves;

"What is the end? For we however strong,

Must face our God in time to come,

Whether we lose or win."

A whole world is a grain of sand when viewed,

By God above; although He turns the other cheek,

For hate returning Love, no flesh of spirit ever Born  can win in a fight with God, the end is in,

His hands alone, for Omega is God.

Of all things good the one they miss by far the

Most of all, is communion with the God of Love,

Of which they can recall, forgiveness for their

Folley, new chances to progress....

Marked clearly to their credit, is a  world that;

They possess, but opposite, a debit, mankind in vile Duress; yet progress remains with men however

They digress.

Who can doubt progress?  Once earths' teeming

Lands, were wilderness and desert, or steamy

Trackless swamp, now stands erected by , Countless

Human hands, vast monuments which testify,

To Mans' progressive pomp; no need for ancient

History books! Just use the gift of sight, look at

The things around you: what miracles of advance!

Discussion of this world of Curs, its' rulers'

Riches' might, fill up each brief existence,

And make we puppets dance!

A fallen Empire, a vicious war, a Kingdom,

Over trod, are ripples on the surface;

Of a deep  Eternal stream:

An hour can mean a lot to us, but what does,

It mean to God.

In the vast unceasing progress of a universal,

Scheme?.

 

Author's Note

THIS IS PART ONE OF PROGRESS COPY ONE.