This sword, drawn, now rives this transient harrowing annum asunder in twain. Like as if a Voice spoke, something surrounding suddenly broke. Bitterness brittle crumbles like sand and like sand through fingers slips away, carried off by a Conquering Wind (His). Suddenly it all seems so pointless, this rabid struggle to cling to chains and retain bondage; so hollow, so empty, even in some respects, so contrived. This eye grows weary of being fed its tiresome lines and having its every move choreographed by the dessicated ashes of a fire long spent. Through the night it gave warmth, so be it, but the night draws to its end and the first rays of the sun gleam across the horizon, by whose light no lantern need guide nor to whose warmth no fire can add. It saw this point in time approach, saw the sword rend the tapestry of experience not along warp nor weft but planar, shifting a symmetrical reversal drawing all who have suffered thus far through the Jobian vortex and out the other side.

TIME IS now to pray for your friends, the ones whose "comfort" utterly failed or perhaps even destroyed you. God give us all strength and yea more than strength, radical readjustment to the days ahead in which our misfortunes shall be not merely reversed but recompensed fourfold. S/He who hath ears to hear, let him/her hear!!!