Without it, it is my creed…a laughing emblem my spot of faith. This new age as always they will seem, for this elder creature live amongst thee human, and all your brother’s faith seems blank after all the evidence proceeding them. May I ask, or will you smartly ask me, where are the tablets Moses so proudly displayed…or is that hope which exists that faith you preach and we follow? Or perhaps you’ll quote our likened God, sharing this modern interpretation that cries off to win me…
Has thee lately stained thy windows, where no longer can be seen this church made of glass, for fear of heathen bricks still trapped within a dead memory, namely of thine predecessors whom also failed?
Passing by thy weary church as next to me, one common market dressed the same. Here hath lay thus undignified uniform, competitive unto this next reform inevitable yet to come…. Can ye enlighten us, ancients…or even your own blood, of thy dusty values you cannot prove?
Within this labeled age….where written history has indulged us everlasting, can it be done with inspiring words alone….stressing this generation like you did the last, those who’ll make these principles immortal, or so at least as can be described while as long as I live…*Extends his hand* as thus you preach?
And I for your lack of answer come. *He bow and smiles sardonically, while he takes up the quivering cross*. Here as yours, thee immortal disciple.
