Uplifting the Saints:
There's a type of people that can't fit in no place of this puzzled wicked society. People that keep drinking poisoned water and eating rotten food and yet their faith builds their invisible shield who protects them from arrows and rocks thrown at them. A musician plays is harp to poison the minds, give pain and sorrow to whoever listens to him. He is imprisoned, stucked in darkness, but he can search for anyone in the plane world. Many bloodlines have made war against them special people, none triumphed. Only they could beat themselves and that happened 7 times. Now they amassing faith, keep gathering the few lost remnants, their armor keeps regenerating it's own quality. Their swords, knives and machetes are forged in the hiding mountain who protects their wishes, faith and prayers. Their bodies made of ashes and dust will gain once again their first lost state. Keeping the covenant will be their skin, righteousness will become their blood, faith will form their muscles and deeds will be their bones. Their superior brethren will help them in the conquest of the flat lands, led by their Captain, Teacher and a dear Brother who is Faithful and True. The fallen children who became shadows led by the musician shall once more make war again against their father kingdom and all that he supports. But the books have predicted the outcome, only fools choose the hardest path. Because shakoi, mistreat their brethren, sell them or selling themselves for a little bit of comfort. Keep living in fear, with so much negative energy amounting night after night, knowing where you are going to rest, unable to do any type of righteous deeds, that is the hard path. The easiest path is doing your best to keep the covenant. Praise our Father, Lord of armies, the highest and source of everything that stands for righteousness and goodness. Doing good deeds, building your faith, gather with like minds who attract positivity and seek truth. At the same time we have the skinny mad enemies and the shadows trying to make their lives difficult. Day by day these people together with their servants and handmaids keep climbing the stairs of heaven and reaching new heights. Their minds become one and their will be the same, only their original language is missing, no need to be learned, it was forgotten and will be remembered. This barbaric simple language links them, for now. Only after the trumpet played by the superior children, they will hug again, praise the Highest, mourn and cry out in unison on the looking fists wich are the mountains. They can sleep for some time or rest in heaven. Nothing is more beautiful than a father seeing is children happy for Him. Only Yahweh could make such innumerous beautiful things that can last forever in peace and harmony. Barakatha Saints