The Green House

I love to walk. Yes very much so. I have walked almost the entire length of this town at least a hundred times.

One can reach such a number when they have lived in a town on and off for more than twenty years.

I usually never go to the newer part of town because my dislike for modern looking buildings reaches the point of disgust, so in order to spare myself from beholding such eye-sores I avoid them entirely and walk within the old part of town where buildings still have some character because they were built in an age where aesthetics was still appreciated.

Now when I walk as I mentioned here I walk in the older part of town and I haunt certain streets and shops that hold a special air…or atmosphere as some may say. I could quite literally spend the day roaming one particular street, walking up and down it just to enjoy the ambience of the place, however I avoid such behaviour as I find people who live on the street might find it unnerving seeing someone stalk up and down the road they live and call the Police on me…therefore I have to resort to relishing every moment I am on a particular street I love.

There is this one street in which I have forgotten its name…perhaps I have never known its name as I am not in the habit of observing which street I am on. I have lived here all my life and I know this place like a map…I don’t need petty things like names of streets to know where I am going;

This street however…is my favourite street because the entire length of it is littered with houses that hail from the Victorian and Georgian era.

Some of its houses are grand houses with massive porches and multi-leveled buildings with at least eight bedrooms with fire-places in everyone. The entire mansion is a statement of rank, wealth and power and I imagine its original owners must have been some sort of tradesman or held some important office in this town like Mayor or something because from the looks of these liveable blocks of art they were certainly not farmers.

There are however on this same street more modest homes that are only one level, rather short (compared to modern homes) made of a reddish brick that is now decaying from its years of wear and tear from harsh Canadian winters. People who dwell in them now make them as cozy as possible and as you pass you sometimes see a lonely flower-pot or a child’s toy in the window. I laugh to myself sometimes when I pass these houses because it occurs to me that humanity over time has changed very little and very likely when that house stood brand new a Century ago the very same objects would be looking out the window…a lonely flower-pot and a child’s toy.

Now the further I wander up this unnamed road there are many of these single floor houses. I have gone past them many time trying to make out wither or not any of them actually have any separate rooms at all because from the outside it doesn’t look like it. I can really imagine that if you entered one of these old red brick homes you would find one large room with maybe a fire-place stuck in the corner somewhere and that is that…no more and no less. I have passed these houses and stopped deliberately trying to think “where would the kitchen be…is there a kitchen at all? What about bedrooms…are there any bedrooms? Where would you put the bedrooms and etc…etc…”

The one major question that keeps playing on my mind and maybe one very important question for the people who are living inside it…is that does that one room house have any other supporting walls inside of it or are the brick walls outside the only bones this old house has? If that is the case it seems clear to me that a person should maybe get the foundation of the place checked out because it seems to me after a certain number of years the brick would decay and the house would be at risk at falling down around me. I doubt many people consider that though because it seems most people don’t consider things like that and those who do are called “paranoid” when in fact its only a logical thought!

Anyways along I go down this road with no name…and I come to this particular (or should I say peculiar) green house. Yes, you read right…its a green house and not a nice colour green but that awful olive green that sprung up in popularity during the 1970’s when I suppose people were imaging they were in ancient Greece during a trip on LSD. And to make matters worse the shutters and doors are painted a pale baby yellow which makes the house look even more horrible.

What strikes me about this house is actually not its awful colour but the fact that it is abnormally flat and again looks as if it only consists of one large room. Although it could contain two large bedrooms or three little ones but I don’t know where one would put them because this house is one level (like the others are) and it just would seem odd to add a bedroom inside one massively large, flat room.

The windows of this building are no better (or prettier) in fact it only adds to the ugliness of this atrocity. First of all the house has too many of them (windows I mean) and they are not normal looking windows but they are long and narrow and stretched across the entire length of the house like a collection of those mirrors you find at amusement parks. I’d hate to have to replace one! I can imagine the man coming to inspect them…I’m sure he’d ask whose school art project this house was.

The windows are not the most absurd feature of this house though…oh no…it gets even worse! Because as you examine this house and raise your eyes a bit to its roof you will find a small look-out that looks like an after-thought of whatever nut-case was responsible for building this house! He must have been a retired Sailor who wished to re-create the birds nest he once had on his ship!

The look-out (or whatever you’d call it) as you can imagine is painted baby yellow and you guessed it has plenty of narrow windows to look out of while you’re up there for whatever insane reason you have for being so. You can see this look-out even before you can see the house because you can’t help it…you’re casually wandering along minding your business until it hits you like a ton of bricks and you can’t tear your eyes away from it because it looks so odd especially when its attached to an already ugly little house.

This house sits right in the middle of a crooked four way stop where your chances of being hit by a passing vehicle is very high, you want to watch for oncoming cars and must tear your attention away from the atrocity that beholds you in order for you to get onto the other side alive and intact. I have done this many times and when I read the other side of the street and stand before this building…I tell it to its face that it is a very homely house and then my mind wanders and I question how one would get to this look-out, because as far as I can see there is no access to it from the outside. Which means there must be an access to it inside and what an access it must look like! What would it be? A staircase going to nowhere in the middle of the room? A latter leaned up to the edge of it? A rope hanging there to climb up? What access could there possibly be that wouldn’t look utterly stupid to a person visiting the house?

Here is a situation (a perfectly fictional one but one that could happen in this house)

A visitor (or someone) comes in unexpectedly thinking its a bungalow they have just entered and suddenly they bump into a random, floating stairwell in the middle of the parlour leading up to a perfectly silly, useless, window filled abomination that has no place to sit down or even stand up in.

There’s another thought that never occurred to me before…Where do you stand? Do you merely climb up your stairwell (or whatever you use to access the bloody thing) and balance yourself on that while eye-balling whatever it is you could eye-ball just as well out those dozens of narrow windows you have there! Insane. The house is perfectly insane. You’ll never sell it because its just to insane to sell!

I know this is a silly little story here but I had to write it because that is what I always think when I pass this house for the house itself is real and not a figment of my imagination. Believe me the truth is stranger than fiction!

written by Aubrae Bronach all rights reserved.

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English is the new Latin

The English language is the Latin of the modern world, because it is one of the most spoken and recognised languages in the world. Everyone speaks English and those who don’t speak it wish to do so, so that they can join the international work force. This mass common language however never happened by accident however and there are a few interesting things I’d like to point out here which is why I am writing this article.
Latin-The language of Rome and the language of one of the first super-powers of the world (so to speak.) Every Nation that that came under the control of the Roman Empire spoke firstly the language of their people and secondly Latin, the language of their conquerors. Why did these people know how to speak Latin when they themselves were not Roman? Because Latin like English was the language of Government and education and in order to climb the social latter and better yourself one must speak Latin.
Because Latin was such a largely understood language of ancient times (along with Greek) and I can say quite confidently that many people who were brought under “Roman protection” probably has some if not fluent understanding of it.
I am even inclined to believe that our Lord while on earth spoke Latin fluently because it mentions in the Bible that Jesus “spoke” with Pilate. It doesn’t say “translated through” but “spoke” with his own mouth to a Roman whom I doubt had any knowledge of Hebrew.
Because of this vast linguistic knowledge, word can spread quite quickly…from village to village and from Nation to Nation. Latin unlike many other ancient languages also had a written script which enabled people to document historical events and transport them over a large amount of space. This perfect storm didn’t happen by accident.
In fact I believe it was created for a purpose…The purpose being that a common language within the world would allow the Gospel of Christ to spread through Jew and Gentile like wild-fire and it did spread very quickly and efficiently through the preaching of the Apostles and others like them. The common language at the time though-Latin is what allowed this to happen and it was for this very purpose Latin was such a common and wide-spread language.
The Empire it belonged to though-Rome was an evil and idolatrous nation. It’s perversion stretched from the Senate to the peasants on the street. Its greed, gluttony and sexual immorality I believe was close to resembling Sodom and Gomorrah…and that is the reason why it fell and was handed over to the Germanic tribes of the North, the Goths, Visigoths and others. I am sure that the day the world heard that their Tyrant was no more shouts of joy could be heard in the heavens…freedom had come again to the world, their enslaver has been enslaved by a Nation that was never conquered by them.
Latin now (although studied) is an extinct language. It fell into ruin and became no more along with the Empire from which it originally came. Only for another language to develop and become a dominant force within the world and that would be English. Whose very origins stem from the people who plummeted Rome. The Germanic tribes.
I doubt that many people give much thought to the history of this little linguistic tale but I find it quite interesting and wish to bring it to note.
The Celtic and Germanic people (which are one and the same) dominated North Western Europe for as long as time began (or should I say since Babel happened.) I won’t go into this evolution/monkey rubbish because that is all an invention of a truly lost and spiritually void man.
These Celtic/Germanic people even though divided by dialectal difference and Clans…they were genetically one people. These people although at war with one another quite often in the end united in order to fight Roman rule in their countries. The Celts (or Gauls) of modern day France were over-taken by Julius Caesar. What he wanted from that country is beyond me but I’m not discussing what motives he had for conquering Gaul…but merely acknowledging that he did. I read later on that Gauls even when under Roman authority were never trusted in Rome and that people considered them to be an “untamed nation”. Untamed meaning that they wanted their freedom.
The Germanic tribes although known to Rome and whom the Romans fought were a people largely untouched by Latin influence. I heard somewhere that the borders of Rome ended once they reached Germany and there literally was a road (all roads lead to Rome etc..e.tc..) that stopped and lead on into the never ending forests of German territory. Because of this European nations went on developing their cultures and languages without the influence of Roman culture and I can safely say that I am sure our Norse, Slav and far North Celtic ancestors never knew what a Roman was let alone fought them or spoke Latin.
These untouched people (so to speak) could not be converted to Christendom…through the Latin language and indeed they weren’t because Northern Europe were some of the last people of the Western world to be converted. The Vikings being pagan as late as the 10th century AD.
There clearly needed to be another common language that could be fluently understood by all people from every walk of life. This language would be English and even though in its infancy Old English would only have been understood and spoken by its speakers the Anglo-Saxons; It was to become the ancestor of English and the language of another super-power the British Empire whose borders (like Rome) spread across the world and whose language people strived to attain.
So here we have another vast, commonly spoken language with a written script in which the Gospel and truth of Jesus Christ can be spread. This cannot be ignored. The purposefulness of this. Latin was the language used to convert the ancient world as English will be the language used to convert the modern. Latin and Rome is dead…its influence is forgotten. English has taken over it the way the Germanic tribes took over Rome and it is through English that people will bring souls to God because it has become the Latin of the modern World and one of the most spoken languages of our time.
Written by Aubrae Bronach All rights reserved.

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Thoughts Before Death

I have never experienced what it must be like to die a quick death. I would imagine that one doesn’t have much time to ask for God’s pardon and certainly not enough time to correct their ways and live a righteous life. Because as we all know to die a quick death means you are here one minute and not here the next. Which is why we should always keep the Lord close to our hearts and repent our sins daily, so if there ever comes a time when our lives are snuffed out unexpectedly….we will be surely counted as those of the “righteous dead.”
As I have just mentioned above I have never experienced a quick death or ever had my life “flash before my eyes” at a moments notice…therefore I am unable to tell you what the final moments of a person in such a situation must be like. I can however tell you with much certainty what one thinks and feels when one is dying a slow death and I assure you there is nothing to be frightened of.
This experience happened on the night I went to the hospital (the second time around.) That morning before I decided I would go there was a day where I felt especially weak and yes I knew that if I did not seek any medical treatment that-that particular day was the last I’d live. If I had of allowed myself to sleep I am sure that I would merely just cease to breathe and perish during my dreams. Because of this awareness that death was close at hand, I made the decision to go with my Mother to the hospital. I will admit that it did occur to me that maybe I was beyond saving…maybe…all my systems were shutting down and no amount of medical treatment could save my life. Despite this thought I pressed on because I had to see for sure if I was meant to live or to die from this demon of an eating disorder. I suppose I gave my body a second chance? So I packed the little things that were precious to me and got in the car. I packed my things because I had no intention of coming home any time soon, for I assumed I would be either admitted to hospital or dead-or both!
The drive from Morrisburg to Cornwall was the longest and quietest drive I ever went on. It was if I was being driven to my execution…and that I only had an hour or so to think through my life, ponder my mistakes and come to the realisation that very soon I will not be here in soul nor body. Such thoughts leads one to repentance, always…always…there is no other option and I did just that asking pardon for all my follies. It’s a very sobering thought and I pity people who have never experienced it or have to reach a near death or dying state in order to come to this realisation because its much better to ask God for pardon when one is still well and can change their bad habits, its a shame that some people have to nearly die or actually die in order to come to this reality.
My eyes closed in fatigue…only to open again to set my sights on the Saint Lawrence river. Memories of how Callum and I would walk along there on summer days these last six years…it was then that I made up my mind that I had lead a good life and if dying tonight or tomorrow…from this disease was my destiny than I was prepared to do just that. No doubts, no hesitations…no fear.
The most false description of dying is that one fights death. You read in newspapers in the obituary of some poor sod that he “bravely fought” this or that disease or even more laughable “he fought to the end.” No you don’t. I can tell you right now that you certainly don’t. True, you may fight whatever is going to be the cause of your death…wither it be person or disease but you do not…I repeat DO NOT fight with death. That’s a down-right lie.
I assume that people who have never been close to dying are all to vulnerable to believe such lies and they are lies but you do not fight death. No. Not at all…quite the contrary…you begin to accept it and then finally you begin to embrace it because you see it as a final release…a means to an end of your suffering.
The process of a slow death gives you time to ruminate. You are one of those lucky ones I suppose that can sit there and examine yourself before you go and believe me when immersed in this self-examining you are your own worse critic. You question everything, you hate every action wither it be good or bad and wonder…what if…what would I do if I was given a bit more time? What would I do differently if I had known I would be in this state a few years ago? I had a book in my head the size of a small island. All my regrets, all my sorrows, all my sins that would be left unsaid in this world and known only to God. You seek God during this process of dying…I believe that people who have never looked for God in their lives look for Him during these final moments, wither it be days or hours…because you realise you need forgiveness and He who knows every hair on your head (Luke 12:7) therefore He needs not your explanation…He only wants your faith in Him so that when He comes you can be with Him in heaven.
The realisation strikes you vividly (I suppose as vividly as when a baby comes into this world a new soul) that you are in the process of leaving this life and are returning to what man was first made of…dust…the soil of the earth…to nothingness. During this awakening you leave behind all petty pretentiousness, you abandon all material objects…they are nothing to you now. Pride is transformed to humility, all harsh feelings are changed to kindness, all hatred to love. You forgive all who ever wronged you because you see now how much hatred has corrupted you…you look to heaven and know that your pleas have been heard and that you are forgiven…every evil that has hid in your soul has been exposed and brought to shame. Shame firstly because you wish you never did those things, those past mistakes in your life and secondly because you’re sorry that there is not enough time to correct them.
You have in your final hour been made anew. Your soul cleansed, your faults pardoned above…you hold no malice, no prejudice, no judgement towards anyone because the truth and the glory of God and all its mercy and goodness has been made known to you. It’s all clear now and you rejoice over this illumination of the soul. You are at peace! Perfect peace…a peace I cannot explain…it’s beyond explanation. The soul weeps however…it is sorry that it’s time is up and that it cannot continue in this world as a new creation. It cannot live longer so that it can live according to what is righteous and good. The grief one feels when they realise that throughout their entire healthy life they were to ignorant and to blind to see the truth of the loving-kindness of Christ and only now in death do they see it and now it is too late (even though forgiven if they asked and truly are sincere) to live with tenderness and care.
By this time…as all these thoughts flooded my mind…I was at the hospital connected to an IV pole and I remember being afraid to go asleep because I thought that maybe if I did I would die. It didn’t bother me though, that thought of dying because I was sure of the end and that because of Christ I would live again at the last day and maybe through His grace be among those righteous dead. I wanted to live though. After this realisation I wanted to live and put everything I felt into practice and be this new creation, with a new heart and soul. I went to sleep that night and I said to God…”If I awake…will it mean I’ll live?” A few hours later I awoke…I guess that was His answer.
written by Aubrae Bronach…all rights reserved

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Assuming Me

(NOTE: This is a letter to anyone who assumes things about people without asking questions. Although fictionalised…what is described here on a physical sense is what I have personally experienced.)
I know that look on your face. You’re judging me. I see that disapproval in your eyes, that disgust marked on your expression. I bet you think I’m drunk…don’t you? You can see how I’m walking rather side-ways instead of straight. My hands are trembling…and I’m slurring my speech. Oh dear…all the symptoms of a right alcoholic aren’t they? Or are they? You must be sure of it….I know you’re sure of it by the look on your face. I am afraid you are wrong however ; For I live a rather sober life. I wouldn’t exactly call a couple of beers in the evening hard drinking would you?
No. What you are seeing here is the beginning of a migraine…and if you want to be an angel and carry me home or call a taxi to make sure I reach my destination safely than it would be much appreciated…but I know you won’t. Because you, like most people never ask me what is wrong. You just assume I’m drunk and therefore deserve to suffer.
I know that look on your face. You think I’m doing drugs don’t you? Such assumptions might be fair I will admit…because I know I sweat buckets, I’m rather on the twitchy side and sometimes I talk to myself and stagger along as if in a dream. I can’t tell you what being on drugs is like though since I have never experimented with them. I suppose its because I’m old fashion and have no desire to alter my mind with harmful substances because my mind is obviously altered enough on its own.
Stop looking at me…I feel your eyes following me around. You must wonder what I’m on? Question my sanity…who knows what it is your thinking, I just know I don’t like it. So stop it please. Oh dammit…I fell! I hurt my knee…oh I’m bleeding and I ruined my nice pants…I liked those pants! I try to get up…ouch my knee…I don’t understand? The curb seemed so close…and I only went to step onto the street but it wasn’t there…! I don’t understand…tears roll down my cheeks…I just don’t understand.
You watched me from a distance. I know you did because the Laundry mat is right across the street and there is no possible way that you could sit there waiting for your washing clothes or bed sheets or whatever it is your washing and look out that window and not see my fall. You never came to help me though. Despite being a witness to my misfortune…! I can tell you what you were thinking at the time you saw me…let me guess…you thought I was high didn’t you and that I only got what was coming to me? Admit it! There is no shame in admitting such a thing. If I were in your shoes I would probably think the same thing, but I have to ask you…do you believe your own assumptions of people so strongly that you are willing to ignore them even when they are sitting there with a bloody knee crying in the street? Even if your assumptions were true..is it really fair or just to ignore a suffering human being no matter the cause of it?
Would it really have ruined your day to take a moment to help me up and give me a tissue to wipe my tears? Maybe if you have done such a nice thing for me you would have learned the truth that I am not a drug addict but my perception of distance is impaired and what others see as far or close I cannot. I try to be careful as to where I step but sometimes I just can’t predict it and must take the risk of having an accident. You will never know that of me though…and you will carry on thinking badly about me and maybe even tell others. That is how rumours start you know. The reason why you don’t know the truth about me however is because you never had the decency to stop and help me and ask me what is wrong…maybe if you had you would have expanded your intelligence a little and not be so subjected to thinking awful things about me.
I know that look on your face. You think I’m Schizophrenic don’t you? I feel so sorry for those with that condition. I don’t know how they cope. Especially when society demonises them and rejects them above every other person with a mental illness. You are afraid of me? You think I am “one of them.” Well that’s okay I’m used to that but the truth is I don’t suffer from Schizophrenia. I’m sitting here talking to my “imaginary friend” because I’m talking to my obsessions. I suppose to be fair you could call them delusions….the only difference is…I know I’m crazy!
Ah! What is that…get away…get away from me…beast! I jump a mile high. I thought I saw a rat. I hate rats! No. I don’t hate rats…I hate wild rats…I thought I saw one…ah…get away! I yell and run away. Oh what? What was that? It was only in my mind. It’s so common for me to see little things out of the corner of my eyes…things that aren’t there. I stop and look around…you saw me didn’t you…? What must you be thinking? I go pink, red, purple in embarrassment…I slowly walk past as if nothing happened. If I could put a bag over my head with two eye-holes punched in it I would do just that. I can never walk down this street again. I must find a different walking path. Yes. That’s it…I’ll find somewhere else to walk in the morning. The only problem is there is no where else to go. I suppose I could just live with the shame…? If you had asked me though what that little spasm was all about I would just aswell tell you…and maybe then you would not think me insane? Yes. You would think me insane. You were sitting there though…on your deck watching me…why didn’t you ask me what I saw or what was wrong? Or is it normal for you to be sitting there with your cup of coffee and have a person walk pass and jump high into the air for no reason? It must be normal for you…or are you content in thinking I am just psychotic? I’ll never know will I…but I can keep assuming what you’re thinking just as much as you assume things about me. So this essay I suppose is stop assuming me…as I have learned over the years to not assume others. You have no idea where people have been!

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Letter To A Bully

That’s alright I forgive you!
You’re still youthful and in your ignorance find it amusing to mock someone of whom you do not know. That is what comes with youth however, as it is all too common to be filled with pride, arrogance and utmost disrespect of other people.
I debate to myself if one can truly make it into adulthood without going through that awkward time of life when one feels they have have attained all the wisdom of the world has to offer. True, that one must falter into foolishness in order to realise they were wrong and hopefully whatever folly they engage in when young and arrogant will harm NO one nor takes an innocent life (as it sometimes does.) Because such grave errors can never be corrected and it will torment the person for as long as they live.
When something of this nature happens and you find yourself in the prime of your life at the childlike age of seventeen or so on…One can be entirely certain that life on this earth will go just a bit slower than the lives of those who carry no guilt. Because my friend, living with remorse and regret weighs upon your heart heavier than any stone, minutes tick by as if hours and days go on as if years. You can mark my words friend, because it will happen if you continue with this thoughtless foolishness.
Such foolishness-it all leads to grief in oneself aswell as others. Every action and every word spoken in hast and heated excitement will usually if not always be at the cost of another and will always be the ruin of yourself. That is why one must be decent in actions and speech because in tenderness and decency nothing can be brought to evil, but in mockery and insulting jests…what is there to gain from them? I ask you. What is there to gain from mockery? What is there to there to gain from being cruel to another human being in whom Christ has died for just as much as He has you? Nothing. There is nothing to gain, only the sorrow and tears you have inflicted on another. By this you have offended an innocent person and tarnished your own character by engaging in this unsympathetic, uncouth action.
No. Nothing good can come of mockery, especially when it is aimed at a singular, innocent person. Do you not see it? The tears he has shed behind closed doors that you have caused? Do you not hear it? The demeaning comments he thrusts upon himself because he has become convinced of your lies about him? You are the cause of this soul to lose faith in himself and his God given talents…You are the cause why he has ceased trying, to be a good student, son and person. You are to blame for these things he feels…and if he ends his life during a moment of weakness unable to bear anymore of your harsh and cruel comments, who do you think is responsible? You are! For you were the source of his sadness, the belittling voice on his shoulder…the cause of his dwindling self-esteem.
You have knocked him to his knees and shamed him, humiliated him beyond measure…and in his desperation and tears, feeling unable to escape your wrath he snuffs out his life like a light from this world never to be seen again. Tell me. Do you really find that you are not to blame for this life lost?
You may not feel guilty now. People like you seldom do. Once you become older however and understand the gravity of your youthful, ignorant actions and the tragic result it has had, you will seek the Lord. Those looking for the relief of their conscience seek him and you will pray and you find mercy and pardon from him. The Lord can and will forgive if ones heart is true, but I find it’s harder to forgive oneself. No. You will never forgive yourself. Believe me when one becomes aware of their own sins you can never forgive yourself, and in the darkness of the night you will sit alone and weep over every hurtful word you uttered.
You’re smiling. Are you mocking me now? That sarcastic smirk strung upon your lips tells me that you are. What is that I hear? You’re laughing at me aren’t you? I suppose that is fair at your age, I must seem like a deranged old woman, a raving judgemental lunatic who is ranting nonsense to spoil your fun. The only sadness of this is…it is not to spoil your fun but rather to protect you from a life-time of guilt and penance, trying to make amends for foolishness you could have prevented.
You cannot see it now because you are still in that youthful arrogance but mark my words…just because you do not heed them now does not make them any less truthful.
Has it ever occurred to you that maybe someone twenty-thirty-forty years your senior might have lived exactly what you are living now and out of love wish to spare you from it? We warn you now so that you may be spared the agony of wanting to change the past. For such shame and guilt of ones doings can be prevented if only you let go of that arrogance of yours and listen to those whose way-ward lives have lead to ruin. If you listen now when there is still time, you maybe can make it into a full adult without a cloud of remorse hanging over your head.
Do you not think that if I had-had the chance to spare myself from this continuous grieving that I would have done so? Of course-in an instant!
Don’t cry now. You’re crying. Maybe crying is good. Oh go on then and let it out…! Are you beginning to see my meaning? Oh sweet child…you have already begun to regret things you’ve done. Maybe this is good because from now on you will tread carefully and try not to make any more hurtful mistakes with your deeds or words. There-there don’t cry now. The Lord still loves you…pray now and ask for pardon. There-there wipe your tears now. It’s over. That age of arrogance is over…no more mistakes, no more mockery. See now you’re smiling. It’s alright now-it’s alright, calm yourself and carry on with your young life but only in kindness, tenderness, respectfulness and humbleness for with these things nothing can go wrong.
Written by Aubrae Bronach….All Rights Reserved

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Jamie’s Girl

Aye! I’m Jamie’s girl! To him I wish the world.

My thought’s at day are of him, my prayers are for his care!

It twas that day in April when my mind was in a whirl,

I met a man so lovely it sent my world into a twirl!

Both of us so tortured by our demons so possessed.

We could only tell each other-we were the calm to our unrest.

Ah! I’m Jamie’s girl! To him I wish the world.

My thought’s at day are of him, my prayers are for his care!

Song’s of love and laughter filled my teenage mind as Jamie’s jokes

so jolly-dried the tear drops from my eyes.

I never would have drempt it, that this world it made for me

a man so full of passion that fit me perfectly.

Ah! I’m Jamie’s girl! To him I wish the world.

My thoughts at day are of him, my prayers are for his care!

Alas! I love this laddie…he is mine to keep but tears I shed

in worry that to him I’ll never reach.

For an ocean it divides us and our troubles still so strong,

the day when we see eye to eye tis’ true may never come.

This man I love so deeply, in dreams that I adore,

shall never be with nor near me, to keep me safe or warm.

And I do fear my arms will be empty all my life, for after meeting him,

I’ll greet nae…my soul shall never touch nae-one ever again!

Aye! I’m Jamie’s girl! To him I wish the world.

My thoughts at day are of him, my prayers are for his care!

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Last Night’s Dinner

Last night I had my dinner;
It was afraid of me…as I cut into my steak it ran red blood-LIKE ME!!!
And while I ate I heard it’s cries, I felt it’s sorrow and pain and guilt, regret and
bitter remorse slowly filled my veins.
How was his last moments, was it a girl or boy, when was he born, did his Mother scorn
like our Mother’s do us? Did he feel happy, did he cry and did he laugh…was it his Mother’s name he called
when the Butchers blade did slash?
 
How is it ever justified to bring into this world a life, knowing that before he’s born, he’ll suffer, moan and die?
How can we live with ourselves when throughout the day we devour the carcases of someone’s body away?
It is their blood we split, and upon our hand’s it stains. Eating meat is madness now in the modern age!
 
As I finished dinner, I went home to pray asking God’s forgiveness for the life I ate away!
The Master never intended His creations to be meat, to be enjoyed on someone’s plate, to be called
juicy, delicious or sweet! Never again shall I indulge on someone who once breathed, who once was just as loved by God as God loves me.
Last night I had my dinner;
It was afraid of me…as I cut into my steak it ran red blood-LIKE ME!!!

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