The Prophecy
To everything, there is a season, and a time for every purpose. The Earth spins at a thousand miles per hour as we desperately try to keep from being thrown off. Like the first blush of winter that signals the great migration…
Is there any room for their arrival? A sign? A single event that set this chain into motion? Was it a whisper in God’s ear? Survive…adapt…escape.
And if we could mark that single moment in time, that first hint of the prophecy of approaching danger, would we have done anything differently? Could it have been stopped? Or was the die long ago cast? And if we could go back, alter its course, stop it from happening…would we?
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