I woke up this morning and saw a hand basket
gently falling from the sky.
God's hand was gripped tightly to the intricately woven handle.
As the rays of the rising sun cast its light into
the opening I saw a familiar shape lingering at the
bottom, beckoning someone, something to help it out.
As the basket ever so gently passed by my eyes a malaise
ambience lingered over it.
As it continued the pass, the light exposed the
content and I was surprised to discover it was a place, not a thing.
It was the Promised Land. The land promised to so
many to ease their suffering and pain.
With no words spoken I knew the meaning behind this basket...
It was the falling grace of God. As it continued to fall,
I watched the basket ever so slowly fade away into the abyss.
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