The days were short, violent storms had devastated many of the U.S. states, Earthquakes had caused a whole new landscape called California. Fires raged out of control, there wasn’t enough water to fight them, they generated hot twisters that, destroyed everything and everyone in their path. Floods, ice storms, fires tore Europe apart, the polar caps were melting, I watched.

One particularly sad day, I went into my inner room, threw myself on my cot and cried. Wailing, I howled like the coyote, bayed at the moon like the roaming wolf. Then I noticed, quiet. The kind of quiet that filled your ears with noise. Light danced on my walls, I threw open the window. It had begun, fire burned white, smoke billowed into the night sky. He walked out and I fell upon my face. He took my hand. I felt myself lifted into the sky, cool wind touched my face, soothed my soul, and as the poem said, I’d {slipped the surly bonds of space}. I was free, looking into his eyes, I reached out my hands and touched the face of God.