One more rumble to tell my last story. The final telling to the final audience, finally told right. The final step before the final tumble. The looking around and seeing frozen in time, the blocks of stone and mortar hoovering above the earth, the frozen fear within human forms canvasing the mother, their planet. Frozen wind in all the ears. Frozen vaccuum in the throat gasping, grasping with the mind this matter this tiny measure of air over the matter of fact, the finality of this act of the walls falling out and the sky falling down, as it were upon our own forms these pockets of spirit, these holy encounters, these holes in ideals, no more free meals. The time has come, the occasion is final and after being frozen for years the Lord returns to the sheep, reclaiming their wooly minds for the mortar for the new church must be built and the cost is in lives.