If You Had One Single Wish, What Would It Be?Submitted by zooamerica on Wed, 11/21/2012 - 22:39
An unlimited amount of money and power for yourself, or an unlimited amount of pure love for the whole world to share and embrace?
I would love to wish for my Aunt to come back to life, but in the grand scheme of things I think that would be rather selfish if I had such an opportunity to really wish for one thing guaranteed to come true.
If I had only one wish, (unlimited wishes not allowed) I'd wish for the Second Coming of Christ to happen tomorrow.
I hope and pray for Jesus to come back soon, because He is the only ONE who can save the human race.
The devil (Satan/Enki/etc...) fooled a lot of people, making them believe he was the true saviour of humanity. "Do what thou wilt," has manifested itself into a bad horror show. Science and technology is enslaving people, heads down, locked into the Droid or MePad, er...Ipad as evil people in high places that so happen to worship Satan plan on killing 6 billion people to save their old time mother Gaia religion.
The devil's philosophy hasn't worked out too well. People ate the fruit, and the fruits are rotten to the core. The taste is sour, not sweet. Thanks Freemasons! You were given knowledge to build, and look what you've built....one fugly ass of a world. We look like clowns.
The Second Coming (poem)
William Butler Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?