Easy drips, running between the loss of one mountain turned one million. There are one million people under one sun, and they only choose to rejoice when the future steps up and presents a problem. When do the people know when to stop and think for the world? When do the people learn not to sin on themselves for enjoying what the sun has to offer? Will they ever learn to love themselves and not to disgrace the life they were given? I will rejoice, she said, as the water sank into the sand. There is no higher calling than to expand on that which makes a woman a woman. The yellow brick road does not open to just anyone with a pair of red slippers, it is a journey just to get there, and a journey to walk it. There is nothing easy about the road, and if you do not rejoice at it, it was eat you alive, turn you into the green witch.

Do not sit there lost in your own mind, do not let your silt sink to the bottom of the floor of your heart. Let it flow, let it move. It is there to nurture, not to harm. What can a flow of water do that a sitting silt pile cannot? It can grow, it can harvest, it can tame and explain and tell the rejoicing of the masses that the mountain sacrificed for their one million. You need to get your mind out of trouble, and when you do, you can get everything else out as well. You will find the prospects of your devil in hell to be dwindling. No enemy can imprison you, you will rejoice if you come out of your shell. And let it be known that you came out of your shell! Do not hide your rays among the clouds, let it spring free in your words, your countenance. Let the joy flow from your fingers, your tongue, your feet. Let the tiny dreaming grass awake to your life force, and let you be the god you are meant to be. There is, perhaps, a higher power, but have you considered the following:

The prayers you say to yourself to a higher power, are always turned back to you? Gods do not have faces to protect the innocent. If you knew you were a god, would you listen to yourself?