david-nathanael-jones

Nothing new seems plausible when the banal repition of daily routine has sucked all life out of thought, out of time, out of breathing.

Yet, somewhere in this tired aching skin lies life, promised in the raw facts of a man's crucifixion and resurection mere years ago. To whisper his name is enough to open the way for hope renewed, hope restored.

That I would come to know the power of my King: the soil, the sun, the living blood of life!