This child of mine named Judah has a habit of wandering off into the jungle and getting himself into trouble.
“Judah come back home and make holy music with me please so we can save our tribe,” I screamed at him in frustration of how foolish he’d become, but once again he turned away.
My mercy could only last for so long before I poured out my wrath, for I was getting old and tired of my visions from God being stolen away. This became certain to me when I watched someone dear to me drop dead from a drug overdose. I was certain that only a gift from God’s eternal spirit could save my people but something happened over time that turned them away.
Realizing that I could not save the world alone, this was my last call for Judah.
Calling him as loud as I could, I then saw an army with Judah in the distance ready to make holy music to save a dying world.
My heart opened up and I embraced my son as he fell to his knees with me, for he was tired and worn out by the ways of this wicked world in which only the holy sounds of Judah could save. In our reconciliation he grabbed his drum and I sat at my piano, we put an end to the foolishness and began to make good music. Everyone dropped their weapons and began to vibe to our angelic sounds.
Last call for Judah. 🦁
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