Keeper’s of the Light - written: @toppraddd graphic: @X w/ overlay _____________________ it’s like doing time, with no crime. it’s like standing guard, with an endless yard. it’s like chasing light, through a dead night. it’s like counting the waves, over sailors’ graves. it’s like keeping the flame, for those without name. it’s like being confined, while the world looks behind. it’s like saving lost souls, from the sea’s hungry shoals. it’s like doing time, this time— standing sublime. *end =====

Please Repost. Thanks fir that. 🕊️🤍

What If We All Prayed at Once? written: @toppraddd graphic: @toppraddd w/grok ======================= What if we opened our eyes so we wouldn’t be blind? What if the truth was standing before us, but we feared what we might find? What if the walls we built for comfort were the very things that kept us confined? What if the answers we’ve been searching for were buried in the back of our minds? Would anyone answer if we screamed for God? If our voices split the heavens, if our knees scarred the sod? If every broken soul cried out, if every lost heart called, would we hear a voice from above, or just the silence and call it love. What if we found out they all were lying? What if every truth we trusted was a beautifully dressed disguise? What if the hands we reached for were the same hands that kept us blind? What if the ones who promised salvation were just afraid of what we’d find? Would we burn the books? Would we question the throne? Would we tear down the temples we mistook for a home? Would we stand in the ashes of everything we believed, or cling to the lie because the truth makes us bleed? What if the stars were only burning, with no one watching from above? What if the universe was empty, and we invented heaven out of love? What if faith was just a candle we held against the night, and God was just the name we gave to everything beyond our sight? Would that make our prayers meaningless? Would that make our suffering small? If no one heard us when we whispered, did we ever speak at all? If heaven never answered, if no divine hand intervened, would we still be capable of kindness without a promise be redeemed? What if we all prayed at exactly the same time? Every language, every nation, every sinner, every saint in line. Every mother begging for her child, every prisoner asking to be free, every soldier praying for tomorrow, every victim pleading, Why me? Would the heavens crack open? Would the oceans cease to rise? Would the dead return to tell us what awaits us when we die? Would the wars come to a standstill? Would the hungry finally eat? Would the powerful lay down their weapons and the broken find some peace? Or would the world keep turning, indifferent to our cries? Would we mistake our desperation for the movement of the skies? Would we call the silence proof that there was nothing there to hear, or would we finally understand that we have always been here? What if the miracle we begged for was never meant to fall from the sky? What if the hands we prayed to save us were our own, and we asked why? What if God was in the stranger whom we left out in the cold? What if heaven was a promise we were always meant to hold? What if hell was not a kingdom waiting somewhere down below, but the suffering we created and the seeds we chose to sow? What if judgment wasn’t coming at the end of all our days, but the sum of every moment we looked away? And what if we opened our eyes and finally saw each other? Not as enemies or strangers, not as different sons of different mothers, but as frightened little creatures on a planet lost in space, searching for a reason to exist, searching for a saving grace. Would we still need to hate? Would we still need to divide? Would we still build walls around our hearts with all this pain inside? Would we still demand a heaven while making earth a place of fear? Would we keep on asking God to save us while refusing to save those here? Maybe the scariest question isn’t whether God is real. Maybe it’s whether we can face the truth of everything we feel. Maybe faith is not the problem, and doubt is not a sin. Maybe the war we’re fighting with the heavens is the war we wage within. And what if we all prayed at exactly the same time, not for riches, not for power, not for some divine design, but for the courage to see clearly, for the strength to make things right, for the wisdom to stop choosing darkness when inner embers were always our brightest burning light. *end =====