I fell through Gods hands and flew. Flew like only angels can. Yet, I am not an angel nor much of a man. I tried to teach him, but I don't think he wants to be taught. He looked at me like I was the crucifed Son of God. He doesn't believe with the conviction and trepidation that I do. But I made him change and grow even thoguh for the longest time, he refused to. He's a lone old crow that let his divinity go, while drawing nearer and nearer to people who do not give life, but extinguish it with tangible things and double edged restraints that can only be complied with while he is awake. I squeezed the heaven that I gave and let it die when my eyes found the light. No sooner did I unearth, a liberated internal church. A place where children gather and laugh and delight in crafts and games to help the time pass. Before the world eats them.