And yes.
I would still wake up in the middle of the night and fight for the Prince of Kindness.
I would stand next to the Prophet and pray for his life and family, hoping God would bless them and grant them Peace as well as many many Divine Blessings.
I would hear the voice of the King of Agartha, whispering into the ears of all who are tear stricken, saying, " I am in the seat of all believing hearts. I am your eternal wandering happiness. I, the King in the Underworld have broken Satan's back upon my knees, watching over the child who sleeps. In my presence, all Hell's nano bites are dispersed. They are broken into their component oppositions in my drinking cup."
At midnight the Christ was in a coffin, asleep. How much was it, that He frightened all demons while the angels who are always aware of God's perennial presence bowed in the Believing Heart's struggle.
At the height of the Holy Mountains there is a fragrance of Holy Chant. A smell of lemon scent on the waxed wood in the chapel. And the believing mind in the heart of all true monks, prays. Yet pray in spite of it all. Pray in despite of murder and transgression. Even if ugliness would cover on the four corners of the earth, a forgotten exiled people, making them despair.
They pray for those who dont believe, while the unwitting damned dont care.
What some would call the Underworld, is a secret place where the conscious root of all being thrives on infinite kindness. To go there, makes you wake up in the middle of the night.
Unabashed. And without regret, God kills death.
