What is within becomes without and runs to naught but ought to go before the One who brought that earth-made-man up to Life by the blood upon man's own hands.
It is without Love that Life ceases to be true, runs awry and away from good to eternal nothing-hood.
The Ship upon the sea will pitch and turn, even throw off thee, but He whose side poured the water on which it sails remains constant and even on an unshakable plane full of invitation and the only vibrancy that expels or even secretes living Adventure, yet scarce with people becomes this plane.
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