became our path of flight, the swirling
cosmic vortex led us whirling, swirling and
spiraling in the encompassing etheric mass.
And then a hideous face stood before
me. Wearing the garb of an ancient soldier,
his uniform was red and had many buttons
and two brush-like attachments on his
shoulders. Handing me a cross, I
immediately fell sick to my stomach as it
was not an ordinary cross. Upon it were the
skins of all the people who had died in the
name of Christ. Appalled, I intensely sought
the knowledge within as the tone began
ringing incessantly. Christ's name had been
used to perpetrate all forms of evil upon the
Earth, and its sacredness had been tarnished
and violated. Remembering the shackles
upon Christ's spirit and the torture in his
eyes, I began to cry softly.
As the soldier disappeared, another
person came out of the ether wearing a
ceramic head. "Don't you know me?" she
asked, with genuine concern upon her face.
"No," I replied, "I cannot know who you
truly are until you remove your false face.
Take off the ceramic head." She refused. "I'm
hurt. If only you knew who I was, you'd feel
foolish for not recognizing me." For a
brent
(Brent)
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