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Steve
05-29-03, 10:36 PM
They question his disappearance.

The same ones being driven to the brink nightly, dry-swallowing their conscience into a dark cage.

If Mark Windham is anything, he's a world-class sprinter. Certainly not the CSWA's World Champion. In the face of pain, Windham emotionally broke. Windham ran.

Before The Awakening was marketed, sold and rated for parental approval it bore honesty readied for consumption if caressed with care.

Mark was ready to accept the light before the others.

His dreams have always been reality. Unable to create or find the same luck as his peers who could escape to lessen the pithiness of the cell, Windham has been the man who never could drown the world.

There was birth. Soon to be followed by fire, loss, and then beatings by the manifestations of a bottle.

Windham's rapid eye hallucinations have always been the unfortunate retelling of the past day's sins.

Eternally he was taught you pay for your own sins. Windham never saw wrong in questioning God. The choice presented itself too easily.

Why was he made to pay, in this lifetime, for those sins conceived around him? Even of those seemingly not of his doing?

Mark checked the book. One soul already paid society's debt. Was Windham made the second just for fun?

God hated him.

Mark didn't wait for the height of his pain to pray for deliverance. Nightly, he took to one knee and sent up word.

"Father, please."

Please.

Words risk interpretations. The Lost Soul shot himself in the foot there. He left meaning to chance.

Stupidity never earns a place by the Holy's side.

It's not that God wasn't listening. He has to. It's a curse of his creation. Turn deaf, and the world would be dead.

No, He heard.

There was uneasiness in the boy's voice, desperation bearing no marriage to belief. Mark begged.

Cries in the night need appraisal. Not all are offered seriously. The disbelievers must be weeded out.

Don't site specifics. You get burned. Windham was sent to hell in Sweetwater as a boy. He knew the sensation well.

Please.
Please help me.
Please stop me from wishing I was dead.
Please let me know happiness.
Please let Timmy live.
Please help my body to heal.
Please, this air is no longing letting me breath.
Please...slowly crucify me for I have sinned.
Please ruin my life before potential is fulfilled.

They question his disappearance.

The World Champion should be front and center, ready to lie down for the profitable whores.

Can they not see?

Do they not care?

They're now the ones on a cross, painfully accounting.

God loved Mark Windham. Like he loves all men.

The One pitied the boy who never could drown the world, and allowed him to finally wake from the never-ending self-hating dream.

The awakening freed Windham. It gave him the truth. If accepted, his Lost Soul could mend.

Windham was awakened to see that sometimes it's healthy to run.

Sometimes you save others by keeping the light away.

Why has Mark Windham held his tongue after promising to be present, to pass on what he has learned?

They question his disappearance.

They're learning.

Though some might never be ready.

There is one who desperately needs to be awakened.

There is one so sick of what he's become he can see the end.

He's the only reason Windham inhaled the shadows and returned to sing and dance on stage.

Windham was never gone.

Even in complete darkness, money was made on the name. It's ironic. The less said the more overexposed he becomes.

Yet money keeps sneaking in.

They put a leash on the freak thinking he could be controlled.

The brothers will meet one last time, for the safety of their souls.

Let the game be played to the delight and annoyance of others. Let the checks clear.

And let them be awakened to personal fidelity.

You can run, as long as you're leaving an old skin to wither and decay.

The light has returned.

Saved, he must now help nurse his brother's revelation to ever have strength to stay.