Of course they crack the whip, as they can't proceed further without the need of those in front pulling everything forwards.
A longing to be in a place called home. Even that warm cosy place can be called home, if only they allow to be in it.
There must be some normality to be known with, something that says to the mind it is natural. However, somehow also know where matters are discomforting and will be too much to handle.
Perhaps it is a sense of disbelief, can't believe to actually be holding in those hands, of seeing the one thing thought never to see for real.
If cutting an atmosphere with a knife, then least be it a cake to slice and share out for the atmosphere it brings. And away others shall go with a piece of that atmosphere.
In the forest; it's not a privilege to be part of something. It sure feels like something special. All those people together as one under a unity. In a place that holds such might, knowing of all the presence it has. Just seeing it from an outside point of view. Waiting for this strength inside burst at the seams and spill out of all its glory.
St. Luke Ch.4:V.43 " - And he said unto them, I must preach the kingdom of God to other cities also: for therefore am I sent."
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