Now, even days after the event, I still find it difficult to understand what it is that was portrayed. My words do not do justice to what was seen. How can I explain what I fully saw? Perhaps my imagination is playing a trick on me, or rather is playing the same trick over and over again. It’s as if what was seen has become arrested at a particular frame. In my imagination I see the light come on again and the images flow on. The script is different each time but not the end towards which the action is flowing and some words come to mind “In my fathers house there are many mansions.” I hope this is true and if it is true that what was seen in the vision will not eventuate ...

Once again, I was thrown into another place. The wall is still broken, still falling but something has changed, the sands have quivered. A shifting of oaths, a new movement of purposes? There was no table only a group of people who stood erect, pallid of face, staring ahead as if alone - each man of himself alone. (Until they are themselves of the soul, they’ll remain strangled by the chains within them.) Scornful and forever grumbling, they will become weakened by their display of nothingness. Their shadows will continue to hover at the cross roads even at noon. Voices raged without purpose, argumentative. Shadowy faces became tense. One face remained impervious, almost menacing, its whiteness not that of goodness though perhaps of fealty. He who will remain undeterred, who will bring death by his faithfulness, will also deceive. Around him blood flows, at first a trickle and then a deep broad river, rushing, tumbling. Chanting heard beneath is depths, echoing, echoing ... Face upon face passed me by. Those that stand alone disappeared within its torrent of bitterness and despair, submerged in a hate of their own making. The four with crowns upon their heads worked frantically, shoring up that which had broken free which threatened to bring death and destruction to surrounding lands but they have also remained solitary and aloof and will become broken. Behind them, huge and immovable, wings outstretched, covering those within its reach, remained the eagle, eyes wide open, unblinking. Head raised it screamed its own anger and agony caught within the brilliant flash of light. Undeterred it remained, scorched, blackened but not broken hovering, and watching.

Time turns, the wind blows, the sands rise and subside, the wheel of time marches forward. Emptiness and desolation remained, nothing seen but white bones scattered across empty landscape. The deads’ flame is blown out and ever more shall be so.

This is a peaceful haven and I know if for what it is. Events of the wider world remain remote and the troubles that abound seemingly a distant soft murmur that occasionally impinge on my consciousness. I turn my eyes to the flickering television screen and I watch knowing so well the storm that may yet lie ahead for us all. Terrible events continue to proceed along their ordained course. I feel the rolling, churning, chaos forever moving forward. Thoughts spin through my mind. My own beliefs are as old as fear itself and my beliefs are not easily altered, nor easily abandoned.

Images seen from around the world televised into our family room of what is eventuating on a daily basis which are scattered with their glories and the terror of mankind. The world will continue turning and the affairs of men will continue apace and there is no doubt in my mind that there will be more violence, armies in movement, people once again on the move across borders. If man knew what loomed before him I ask, would he change? No, I doubt it – man will learn in the most painful of ways – for I think our future is a blessing and a curse. No doubt lives will be changed and events will gallop forever onwards and a great many changes will come to pass in the next century and millennium. Perhaps it is better that mankind does not know what lies ahead for I believe that when we fully know the truth, man will carry it for a long, long time. But I know as I have always known. We imagine we see the world as it is. What we see is the world we imagine. We do not see the world as it is and men as they truly are.

Oh yes, there are those in this world who will vie for position and power and who will be filled with ambition and greed. They will seek to snatch what they can. Alliances will change with the wind; loyalties will ebb and flow with the tide. (Have we not hear these things internally and externally whispered on the winds of time?) Will we continue to remain aloof and unconcerned with squabbles in distant lands because we believe it will not affect us? We cavort in the twilight believing that we are invincible and that the seasons will continue to come and go.

The ugliness and treachery of ourselves cannot be denied. Are people perhaps truly fools? I’ve never completely lost the terror such a thought arouses. Why is it so difficult for us learn? Is it because we are so wrapped up in our own selfishness that we do not see what is happening and where it will lead? I still believe that we can be anything we want to be. Man has an inclination to evil and a capacity for nobility. Perhaps I see the world too much through my own narrow lens of experience and have become a fool who is stuffed with too much false and useless knowledge.

Australia sits like a rock in the sea and I suspect the terrors will wash these shores but will recede and the rock will remain unchanged. I know that wisdom will be given when wisdom is required, courage when courage is required, and life when life is required. All things will be given. I am not bereft of hope. Hope is there is my heart.

What can I say ... silence is all I hear. Are people reading this blog? How strange to be typing something and thinking that someone somewhere will be reading what I write. Now, even days after the event, I still find it difficult to understand what it is that was portrayed. My words do not do justice to what was seen. How can I explain what I fully saw? Perhaps my imagination is playing a trick on me, or rather is playing the same trick over and over again. It’s as if what was seen has become arrested at a particular frame. In my imagination I see the light come on again and the images flow on. The script is different each time but not the end towards which the action is flowing and some words come to mind “In my fathers house there are many mansions.” I hope this is true and if it is true that what was seen in the vision will not eventuate ...

Once again, I was thrown into another place. The wall is still broken, still falling but something has changed, the sands have quivered. A shifting of oaths, a new movement of purposes? There was no table only a group of people who stood erect, pallid of face, staring ahead as if alone - each man of himself alone. (Until they are themselves of the soul, they’ll remain strangled by the chains within them.) Scornful and forever grumbling, they will become weakened by their display of nothingness. Their shadows will continue to hover at the cross roads even at noon. Voices raged without purpose, argumentative. Shadowy faces became tense. One face remained impervious, almost menacing, its whiteness not that of goodness though perhaps of fealty. He who will remain undeterred, who will bring death by his faithfulness, will also deceive. Around him blood flows, at first a trickle and then a deep broad river, rushing, tumbling. Chanting heard beneath is depths, echoing, echoing ... Face upon face passed me by. Those that stand alone disappeared within its torrent of bitterness and despair, submerged in a hate of their own making. The four with crowns upon their heads worked frantically, shoring up that which had broken free which threatened to bring death and destruction to surrounding lands but they have also remained solitary and aloof and will become broken. Behind them, huge and immovable, wings outstretched, covering those within its reach, remained the eagle, eyes wide open, unblinking. Head raised it screamed its own anger and agony caught within the brilliant flash of light. Undeterred it remained, scorched, blackened but not broken hovering, and watching.

Time turns, the wind blows, the sands rise and subside, the wheel of time marches forward. Emptiness and desolation remained, nothing seen but white bones scattered across empty landscape. The deads’ flame is blown out and ever more shall be so.