This city is so dead at night. The cold air seeps thru the walls in the cafe down the street, forcing the Bohemians to drink their coffee quickly and burn their tongues. They spill out onto the sidewalk, pondering the reasons why their agnostic behaviors make them better and more intelligent than the rest of these Godless satellites.

 Little do they know that they have conversed with the second-born. The one true thread to the existence of HIM. They do not know nor will they. I just sit and play guitar, watching their faces as lonely songs auger in to their minds.

 Many belive that the messiah will come to save the rest of theworld from the Meggido that is truly taking place. But HE has tired of those stories that have been passed down of the "Savior of Souls". Instead, he chose to send me to greater understand "Love". Not the unwavering type that humans should have for their GOD, but the view that this generation of misfits has let overtake them.

 So alone I sit. In this retched cafe executing sonnets of heartache. I think they call it the "Blues". My Father once told me "Lest the heart be broken, thou shall never grace this world without experiencing love". It wasn't until I met her that I properly grasped that concept.

 Now, and only now, can the world be saved.