Sometimes I Get Lonesome For A Storm.

I Have Hope In People, In Individuals. Because You Don't Know What's Going To Rise From The Ruins.

Sometimes I Get Lonesome For A Storm. A Full Blown Storm Where Everything Changes. The Sky Goes Through Four Days In An Hour, The Trees Wail, Little Animals Skitter In The Mud And Everything Gets Dark And Goes Completely Wild. But It Is Really God - Playing Music In His Favourite Cathedral In Heaven - Shattering Stained Glass - Playing A Gigantic Organ - Thundering On The Keys - Perfect Harmony - Perfect Joy.

Only You And I Can Help The Sun Rise Each Coming Morning. If We Don't, It May Drench Itself Out In Sorrow.

To Sing Is To Love And Affirm, To Fly And To Soar, To Coast Into The Hearts Of The People Who Listen To Tell Them That Life Is To Live, That Love Is There, That Nothing Is A Promise, But That Beauty Exists, And Must Be Hunted For And Found.

God Must Have Something To Do With Joy ... And With Sadness.