• O precious are you, the gates of Zion. You are the foundation of New Jerusalem unto the virtues of me a man. The foundation stone understands its neighbor. In the eyes of the beholder life is mortified. Thus, the man is settled among his home. Observer, sit down and meditate. Reflect paths of righteousness. Abide with us still as a light. Let not the soul be troubled in a changing landscape of your presences. The voice calls to me and echoes. The voice calls to me and echoes.

    Unworthy am I to claim history olden to unless the Lord answers a call, my prayers and thoughts are vain less lived. I am not the chosen, yet one of memory to feel. I rest unworthy to understand. Yet before I, a sadness of memory in due part as to determine who or what was a past life unto the soul of centuries. When those before would not bow for righteousness’ sake claim they wickedness inheritance or throne unless the Lord counters the shadows. The weak preserved their possessions after humble humiliation and scars with many defenders past to modern. Caused by you each more an elder or doubt. Passed onto our time, reconciliation for the observers and those of life to succeed in the presence. There is mercy on those who need evidences rather than the obsession to be a zealot or denier of the truth, if it can be stomached as a whole.

    O protectorate in question, return to the Lord. Mankind ponders at your thoughts and tests you or indeed one is sleeping and lost in fear. Eternity cannot erase you from my pages. Life each, have their pages torn from a book because they had added plagues to their life, or torn them from that of others. Forgotten is power but enriched is much more refined to it of a greater Lord’s portion.

    The authorship of words rests upon truth and not the thought of the mankind to the desires. For life is a part of you. The generational shadows pass. In the presence of much it renews. Of you, whose memory did you wipe clean? Of their zealous action, of it their own wa ...
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