God made the sun to rise on the good and bad alike, be prayerful and be faithful, set the woolen heart on God's laws because there will be fanatical corruption, lust, lies and the very hills upon which you walk will rust, turn to bone, turn to ash, the sacred blood of each martyr being the seed of the real church, beauty being the fragile gift given and still elusive, still resembling a wayward collection of books and trinkets, an arc of windows and a cloud outside a glass castle in a glassy kingdom, a soul made of doll breath.