it was a dark and story night

following the light (C) Carol Joy Shannon 2019

“When you walk through the storm, hold your head up high, and don’t be afraid of the dark…walk on, walk on, through the wind and the rain, though your dreams be tossed and blown, walk on, walk on, with [God] in your heart, and you’ll never walk alone…”

That, not including the change in lyrics, was a favorite song of my mom’s. Probably of a lot of people of her era, and it’s stayed around. Because we all need — as the song actually says — hope in our hearts. So we’ll get up and go forward every day. The slightest thread of hope keeps people going in places like gulags, and concentration camps, and sickness and despair.

These are some very odd times around us right now. One of the things humans do is attempt to fix “odd” times and things and people. But we really can’t fix everything. We will never be able to tweak all the right buttons and make the world spin into soft focus and slo-mo happy lalaland.

Because we are not in control.

… ever…

Of course, most people are quite certain that mankind is in charge. We have the World Monetary Fund manipulating science and sociology around us right now, implementing their plan for a New/One World Order. It’s been in the works for a long time, but the world population hasn’t been malleable enough until recently, it seems, for them to start using the test case scenarios they’ve been trying for decades. Bill Gates wants to sow the atmosphere with chemicals to cool the sun. Honest.

I am not a conspiracy theorist. I am a clear-eyed septuagenarian who’s seen it all, from here, from afar, in the diplomatic world, in the money world, and in the world of who really rules it.

Money rules it.

Plain and simple.

But who controls it? WMF? Soros? Gates? Rothschilds? Big Tech? China?

Nope.

God.

God controls it.

That’s what humans always forget. Especially the power-hungry, control mad cabal at work around us right now. They don’t even believe in God. And, since they don’t, God can’t possibly exist.

They are the elite, after all. What they believe is what is.

And what they believe is that we are all too stupid to rule ourselves democratically. We need oneworldorder. Theirworldorder.

Why aren’t you on that page yet? You’re wearing a mask. It’s just a step. They only have your good in mind. Honestly.

Don’t you believe in your leaders?

Orangemanbad.

Your leaders have sold their own souls.

Orangemanbad.

Your leaders set up the opposition to look a certain way, and then spun the media and you bought it. You’ve been buying it. You think you’ll die if you go out without a mask. You think we’ll all die if I have a family BBQ in the back yard. You’ll report me.

You’ve sold your soul.

But it’s okay. Freedom isn’t all that big a deal. Free cable is better. A guaranteed amount of money in your account each month from the government. That’s better than being able to have an opinion. Or go to church. Or read the books you want to read. Or talk trash about your cousin from Boston. Free money. That’s it. Even if it’s not enough to buy bread. Free. Stuff.

Communism good. Orangemanbad.

Nothing to see here. Move along. It’s all for your own good. The public good. The common good. Worldpeaceworldharmonykumbayahnamasteoneloveunity

When all the doublespeak rationale makes you crazy, and you wonder why you are even trying in a newworldorder where you have no voice — look up that song, “You’ll Never Walk Alone.”

In fact, look it up now. Modern singers have covered it fairly recently. I know, it’s a bit sappy, maybe, but not if you hear Mahalia Jackson do it. Sing along. Substitute God, for “hope.”

And remember who’s really in control.

About Carol Joy Shannon

A former sailor of the seven seas, living in my beloved Lowcountry, between the blackwater swamps and the saltmarshes, surrounded by pre-revolutionary history.....thinking about current events....painting dinosaurs and other whimsical animals for children, with the occasional abstract or new cityscape for my delightful collectors. The best thing about being a seasoned old salt is time, the joys of no demands on it.
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