What does he want to change most?

Is it our world?

The crumbling, smoking wreckage reminding us that Eden is gone?

The circumstances most decidedly oppositional, conspiring toward hardship, provoking our tears.

Or is it us he wants to change?

Our chipped corners and soiled rows, our twisted motivations, our death fear.

Or is it both?

This story is a river,

a threading of tributaries,

rainfall and snow melt collected,

coupled, conduit carried down and along,

over and below, through.

Multiplicity becomes singularity.

I'm Justin Gerhard. Welcome to Holy Ghost Stories. The sound is so loud.

Clattering, whistling, clanging, thundering, Wushing, knocking, ticking, clicking, grinding,

grinding, shuffling, whirring,

Wurring, rock shifting, many waters rushing.

It is a multi-layered, raucous collage of noises, easily mistaken for chaos,

but not at all without order, intent, design.

It resonates through the cosmos, echoing in the atmosphere of Jupiter, humming in the reaches of

distant galaxies, sounding amidst solar flares and lunar rotation. On Earth, the volume rises. The

web of sound wraps itself around nations, city states, governments, a complex symphony playing in courtyards and around hearth fires, reverberating inside clans and families.

...