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A Crumbling Village
The Dying Village
It was a village!
There once was a village built of crumbling clay and rotting wood…
The village squatted ugly under a rotting sun that made you want to die.
This village had a virus shared by its people it was a germ of loss of hopeless or loss of faith.
The hopeless the misery laden there was ample time to engage in one of the pursuits of men.
They began to destroy themselves
They being human were more than they could bear.
Help me he begs!
He would Yell!
The end is near, the end is near the drunkard on the corner would yell!
With swallow cheeks and eyes fallen in he could speak only barely above a whisper as he would yell. “The End is near!”
His hands so dirty begging and shaking for a few cents in a filthy cup for another drink or maybe a cup of coffee to satisfy his need, ‘Some other time he would act like a man ‘the man in the suit thought as he was walking past the drunk in ragged clothes on the sidewalk with a box as his home.
What if there was a magic dust that turns hate to love?
The rotting soil, the ache of hearts the blackness of hopelessness.
The haunted highway of no return
The mighty dust of might
That turns the musk to night
No carnival my dear only a hanging of the master.
The TIME IS NEAR!
Are you ready?
Are you near?
The magic dust will work, to save us?
He had big brown sad eyes!
The little child with big brown eyes sad as the day is long, dirt in his hair, tummy with no food, begging for love and for a little bit of food and sympathy by the end of the day.
The mother on drugs that cannot help but turn to her god in the needle, wishing her life would have taken a different turn, with a white picket fence, and a love of Grace.
The hand of providence, with a twist of fate that would take her life for a different time and a different universe!
Or the mighty hand of God that saves us all.
It was a very small misery laden village on the day of the killing.
If there is any moral to it at all, in any quest for magic, or search for sorcery, witchery!
First check the human heart!
For inside this deep place there is a soul that costs far more than a few pieces of gold.
Inside the village the pain is still there but there is hopefulness there is love even with cold hearts that are black as night there is still love if we would just look and search for the final hearts that will survive the despair and have hope for the time Has Come!
The Heart Needs a Home
The Mighty hand God can save us!
Winston Churchill said, “There is no doubt that it is around the family and the home, that all the greatest virtues of human society are created strengthen and maintained. “
By: Debbie Brooks
©Copyright 2012 by Poet - Deborah Brooks-Langford, Debbie, or Deborah Brooks. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used for re-distribution, provided that full and clear credit is given to Deborah Brooks-Langford, Debbie, or Deborah Brooks with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. All rights reserved. Any violation or infringement of this copyright notice will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
There are so many Hubbers that are an inspiration too me. I read so many hubs a day and I am filed with love and hope and laughter. I want to thank each Hubber that is following me and the ones I am following. You all are so great.
This hub I want to share is a hubber that I really admire. You all know him as Lord De Cross on the hub and on Facebook he is Joseph De Cross. If I need help and if he is around he is always there to lend a helping hand.
Thank you Joseph!
Here is one of his many hubs I want to share with you.
Lord De Cross
- Potential Murderers -- How Do You Know If You Live Next To Them?
If society is becoming more and more vulnerable to these mass murderers, we need to know in advance where these potential killers are, and who or what might be the next target for their evilness. We discuss an insightful approach on the subject.