a writing by James Stephen Thompson

Crew See Fix

“Unless you see yourself standing there with the shrieking crowd, full of hostility and hatred for the holy and innocent Lamb of God, you don’t really understand the nature and depth of your sin or the necessity of the cross.”

I stood at a window looking west, whilst a storm picked up as my only guest. The grass being a heathy shade of green, as the rest of the garden appeared tiresome and mean. The place of the skull on occasions like this, most likely would suffer through such sounds of a hiss.

A sky so grey peered down upon all, as if with intention to petrify with a bawl. The winter period was reaching a close, as both wind and rain began to compose. Perhaps in parts being out of tune, with the appearance of being such a rough afternoon. Light did fade through lack of defence, whilst a violent storm matured to commence.

A raging wind so wild and untamed, performing its part as it had been proclaimed. Scenes of such rage and fury too, whilst gales sure had most trees swaying through. A regular cross fire of unsettling force, had deep determination to carry off course. The visual aspect for all to view, beyond a window as at last a dream came true. The storm past over as all now appeared still, and with the type of atmosphere for all to show such skill.

Each foreground display within northern lights, had had it’s winter appearance of withering heights. Easter drawn in united with a ghost dance, whilst buds on most bushes had made their advance. Flickers of colour representing flames, were now sure flickering fast with their aims. A storm it may have been with force to defeat, yet the strength of all trees and shrubs did compete.

The appearance of life from left to right, rear to frontline where came aspects of fight. Scenes from bushes, shrubs and trees too, each with buds fighting their own way through. Making advance on forcing way forth, a resurrection with the season of spring from the north.

The force of a Passover had played its part, as now all horticultural scenes showed their art. Scenes of a simple flow of buds in bloom, each playing a part with a perfume.

For time had arrived for all to show deeds, as each and every gardener began to sow seeds. Such a storm transformed as such scenes come to pass, succeeding the crucifix by such a great mass. Seeds to be spread as detail of contact spreads too, through aid of the Spirit received from out of the blue. Spring had stepped in and winter was past, as all guests by hand break a further broad cast.

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