There are things falling from the sky, some are petals and some are knives, words that cut and divide. Some are tears from eyes like fountains, uncorked from Jeremiah’s cousins. Some are missile shards and shrapnel, freshly mailed from Persia, hastening Armageddon.
So then on the plain of Meiggdio we will wait and wail, remembering good king Josiah. Armed with tears and promises, until the better king appears and his enemies vanquishes.
