yesterday's message to Moscow, they must be sick of me
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as children we are afraid of the dark
but there are greater and more dark things in life
maybe you have seen them
I know I have
I may appear a fool, or just act like one
but I have know great darkness
that's way it's always good to have a torch under the bed
but the best torch of all is in your head
placed there by love not hate
placed there by faith not pretence
if you create a god from a man
you end up with nothing
an emperor in the nude, when he thinks he is wearing fine clothing
this czar is just self deluding, his mirrors lie to him
he is all empty and lost
soon he will burn on the fire wood like Rosebud, as in Citizen Kane
so goodnight to you, it's time to burn all your vanities
and plough the field and start again
Putin, you are gone, never as good as Rosebud
but Mother Russia can live on
Mrs Julia Casey, my mum, her Rosary never stops, this was her birthplace
read a book The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
full of
compassion and love Mrs Murphy in the story is my mum,
and her 3 sisters combined,
Big Sid I realised only afterwards was my dad's spirit
and the final word is Calcutta, because help was always on the way,
from the very start of the Novena
And Fatima is on the way to Moscow, in due course, because this is Mary's time
not Putins. Stop the insane war, and surrender to God.
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