They come in the middle of the night. Their names are thunderbolt and lightning otherwise known as fear and anxiety. Like flesh eating tigers they weigh upon the mind, and their relentless efforts surpass the greatest of sleep aids. No one can stop them, and their onslaught remains regardless of the valiant tries of the most noble of character. They attack and attack again. Who or what shall stop the tigers? Who shall refute their pernicious snarl, and who shall rescue from the darkness of their hour?
There must be one superior. There must be one greater than their vicious mangling. There must be one upon whom souls may call that can and will be a deliverer. Too many struggle with the tiger's uncaged roaming, and far too many know the visits of middle of the closing hours. Is there no one who has availability? Is there none who can defeat? Is there no one who will be victorious and put to rest the souls of those victimized by the beasts?
Come, oh come, oh one who is supreme. Rescue from vanquishing the restless minds of the nights, and put away the flipping from side to side. Put away the wetness upon the pillows, and put at ease those weary souls who wrestle with the tigers night after night after night. Tame the forces that bring fiery darts and raise shields to protect from prophetic bridge crossings that each one must encounter and each one must endure.
Until tomorrow...Why Say More?
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