Once, when stars hung brighter in the sky and clouds were shaped like carousels, I was filled with wonder. And the Creator, Himself, carried me to bed on His shoulders. I was innocent full of Hope and expectation glistened casting rainbow colors on the future. But monsters came in the night and stole my innocence. Their blackened hands left imprints on my soul. Little rivulets of life trickled from the shallows there. Year by year my soul, grown ashen, lost hope. And the flame of expectation dwindled. I know death, I know it intimately. I’ve seen it in the mirror. And it’s stared back without shame as if it was I who was the interloper. Phantom-like I spent my days cashing in my currency for accounts receivable. Having only the motions of living without the life. THEN A HOLY WIND WHIPPED. THE CLOUDS ONCE MORE INTO CAROUSELS, THE CREATOR CAME AGAIN TO CARRY ME TO BED. AND I WAS FILLED WITH WONDER. I HAD COME TO THE END OF MYSELF. AND GOD MOVED IN, FANNING THE FLAME ONCE MORE TO LIFE!