The Grip on Your Fingers Finally Fails…

I have that feeling of hanging on the edge of a cliff, a bottomless
dark pit stretching out in the distance below.
There is deathly silence, no birds, no sounds, just the wind whistling
and the sharpness of my own breath as I struggle to hang on. But my
fingers are getting numb from the cold, the strength leaving them.

Yet I feel a sense of relief as this happens, and I fall blissfully
into the black caverns below.
Death is not waiting there but rebirth, rejuvenation and strength….

Sometimes you have to let go, be brave, so you can transform your soul.

Black Ops in full Alert: Red Alert. Keep watching…

Paul Bishop
The Ghost That Walks