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God-lover, singer, poet, writer, mother, friend. Author of Song of Unborn Child.

Saturday, February 19, 2022

An Army of Glorious Truckers

Once long ago there were truckers who rode great shining trucks into battle; a battle where they carried no weapons and courage was solely their armor.

The fight they waged was quite peaceful in their stubborn defiance of a tyrant. And all the world watched the battle progress, and how with bar-b-ques, laughter and dancing they fought.

The tyrant could not take the mocking and angrily called on his minions: the enforcers-of-diktats, cold-hearted cowards (falsely called 'royal') that were willing to trample even old women beneath the hooves of their horses.

It seemed like a one-sided battle. It seemed like freedom was lost . . . but then . . . a miracle suddenly happened that no one expected to see. 

The people began to awaken from sleep, deciding these warriors should not stand alone any longer. By ten thousands and millions they filled every street. Every village and city was crowded. Every highway and byway was crammed. Until the outnumbered enforcers-of-diktats refused to give help to the tyrant and decided instead to stand down. And the dominoes fell 'cross the world as their liberty finally was won.

And here on the hallowed fields of freedom sits that first mighty truck of the convoy. Here sits the old metal steed in her glory for all lovers of freedom to see. And to this very day parents tell the story to their children of that army of glorious truckers, fearless and bold, who caused the thrones of terrible tyrants to come tumbling down.

Artwork: Kenworth Old Workhorse © Stuart Swartz
https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/stuart-swartz

Thursday, February 03, 2022

Proclamatory Feet

I feel electricity course through me at His touch. Fear flees and little do I care what men think. Do I dance? Yes, with all my heart and soul till those of timid nature find the boldness to step out.

Come, all who wish to join in the dance, who wish to plunge into the river, who wish to stand beneath the rain and soak in heaven's glory. And darkness will tremble beneath your feet . . . and walls will crash beneath your feet . . . and demons will flee before your stomping, twirling, proclamatory feet!

Leap over those safe little fences round your field that men have built and venture into the wild unknown . . . I know you want to.


Artwork: Spiritual Renewal © 2008 Angela Branigan