Thursday, September 20, 2001
SEPTEMBER 11th
The Powerful Hand stops just short of the box, pausing, as if regretting somthing not yet done. It reaches and opens, letting in five faceless instruments who never see the box shut behind them. Soaring in the air high above, it holds a match and watches as those who would ignite it take control with such confidence. "My God!" The strike! - the heat of impact, the faceless men have souls. Hearts lurch forward to absorb the shock and people rain from the skies. The flame held high up in the air can be seen by millions - wiling or not - as it eats up their kind. Blasts of air and poping sounds pop ears, fire pours down and clouds pour up. The match touches the fuse as the city falls with a sickening roar and simoultaniously a nation hits rock bottom. Ear to ear the spark races through. Man to man, future to future, all looking for eachother. Hearts jerk back into place, bloddied and broken, covered in a fine white dust, filled to capacity, pushing the soul to its knees directly over the flame's final destination.
"When I passed by you again and looked upon you , indeed your time was the time of love; so I spread my wings over you and covered you. Yes, I swore an oath to you and entered into a covenant with you and you became mine." says the Lord God.
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