All to often we grace God's stage. With lackluster, and mediocre talent. Lines scarcely memorized, clumsy blocking and false props. Performed before an audience of deviants, both vintage and newly fondled. Our attempts at dignity feeble at best.
Courage that is nourished within our breast, turns sac cloth before our superiors. The gentlle morning mist becomes violent torrents of ocean waves when brought before his torch bearers. So we continue with dishonest manners, clinging to the nook-shotten lands of our fathers.
But still we fight, for within each of us is the scent of God's courage. Bestowed since the sun was an infant. It is that power that gives us our victories, sadly the very same will be our downfall.
-Johnny V.
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