I’m not much of a religious woman—at least not in the manner that most would assume. I take no pride in vain, and thus frivolous, practices. I see no purpose, and have found only worldly pleasures in beliefs lacking of knowledge or any concern for the same. No, I care not for the wars of false idols—invisible or stone, or books and scriptures filled with stories of our foremothers and fathers who’s successions have yet to end—because I have seen men pray their entire lives away to their respective Gods. I have then seen those same men lose what they mistook for faith when tribulation strikes their hands. I have witnessed them slaughter their own Gods, and throw aside their holy-seekings for the insignificant sake of self preservation and fear of being judged by the likes of mankind.
See, they have walked this earth for thousands of years in blood and bones concealed by flesh. They seek salvation, but it has often been bitter much more than it has been sweet, and majority could not stomach it—because one must first rid themselves of self and take on a cloak, a new spirit, and then allow for once the true spirit within to shine without. Teshuvah—you must return . . . all must repent. Yet, many will refuse.
Witness, man possesses a learned tendency to praise and worship a God whom he does not fear, and hardly loves—for it is obvious he does not know his God. And what can be said of a mere woman who cannot reverence, fear the One with the power can crash the heavens with no more than a single vibration—one word. Who will speak for the mortal soul who believes not enough in his or her own divine ability to conquer death, instead calls upon another servant to the Most High Creator to fiction a straight and narrow path to his own salvation. . .
Chapters & Excerpt from:
Watching the World Shake with Much Madness
© 2016 E. English Publishing Group