Back in the day. . .Way, way past the Beginning, when G*d was bigbanging the heavens and the earth and the waters and the Sky was over the surface of the Deep and the Spirit of G*d was churning up the waters, raising up the tides whereupon waves would roll across the sands of time and travellers would traipse barefooted collecting shells and whatnot. . .
. . . a traveler happened upon a sandbag, filled with sand, whereupon he rested himself down and laid his head upon the sandbag and contemplated the sands of time and the waves of fate and, and, as Lincoln had said and Barack had said, the better angels of our nature. . .
and the winds of faith and lo and behold as he gazed into the blue sky he beheld a stairway.
And it was good. And he climbed the stairway in his mind whereunto he saw in the distance a tall pole with a small pole crossing it with angels upon the head of a pin and he knew that what he was seeing would transmit a signal of hope throughout the ages,
beyond the sands of time, leaping over the waves of adversity and even o’er death itself. You believe that? even over death itself? You believe it? If you believe that I've got some real estate I'll sell you in heaven . . . but the price is already paid.
Anyway , meanwhile back at the branch. . . And it was good, and he knew it was. And so he released the signals into grand Net where it may or may not catch the attention of men, women or even angels, if you can believe it, who are giving attention to the waves of faith and the sands of time and stairways ascending upward into . . . into whatever's out there, whatever's up there. Just grok it for awhile the next time you lay your head down on the sandbags of Time.
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