In the wound, we find forgiveness,
if in the wound, there is love;
and in this love is proof of God.
In a heart which never cried,
nor wept its bitter tears;
there is no proof of love,
for it had no chance of forgiveness.
To understand the heart of God,
it is necessary to hurt;
and to have practiced forgiveness.
The ones who hurt,
they may hurt but not forgive;
and if they do not forgive,
then they cannot find forgiveness.
They were wounded by a sword,
then took up their sword,
striking down their enemy;
both have fallen to the ground in death.
But the heart of God is mercy,
who takes in the wound of sin;
into His heart, the sword of sin,
then offers up a hand in friendship.
This is the heart of The Father,
whose children now make war against Him;
yet He has disclosed His Son,
to be a beacon of forgiveness for sin.
All mercy now hangs upon the cross.
In the tale of two cities,
a man sets himself against a man;
saying to himself and to the world,
“I have come in the name of Christ.”
But he sets himself against his brother,
so that in his heart is Cain;
who slew his brother, Abel.
A murderer as the first of murderers,
he has set himself upon his brother;
and in his heart, has killed him.
The true tale is this,
we are all of Babel;
The City of Augustine cannot be built,
while sin is lingering in humanity.
To build a city and call it, “of God,”
then to invite within it impurity;
is to have built a city of hypocrisy.
This is The Roman Catholic faith,
to paint the walls a pure color;
and to set up statues of the saints,
but harbor sin within the human heart.
Their, “City of God,” is anathema,
and the curse of God Most High;
rests upon the city they are building.
This, from the foundation of the world,
that a lie, and a murder,
have been spoken against The Lord.
They have painted a portrait of life,
but underneath it is a trap, and death;
they hold up bread, and say, “life,”
but upon their tongues are murders.
This is The Church of Rome,
whose many sins are not forgiven;
because they have not acted on The Word.
They have spoken The Gospel,
and in the same breath;
they speak deceit and lies.
With a wave of their hand,
they paint Heaven for children;
before they slaughter them.
Good words are these,
which open guilt from the depths;
exposing one’s own wretchedness.
But a promise has been spoken,
to cleanse and to purify what is broken;
yet in the heart of Rome,
a skewer to skew America.
The dragon’s tongue has spoken,
“One Who Accuses,”
who has not accused Rome.
Death lingers in The Vatican,
the smell of rotting flesh lingers;
and bodies lay dead in the streets,
as Rome goes forth saying, “peace.”
The Just One has been crucified,
and he hangs as a thief & robber;
Divine Mercy hangs there with him.
The fruit which gives eternal life,
hangs ready on The Tree of Life;
waiting to be plucked and eaten.
Yet Rome makes vain words,
speaking vanities of her faithlessness;
speaking them to faithless peoples.
The pomp of Rome.
Had she faith in God,
Rome would abandon her city;
she would abandon her city of gold,
her, “City of God,”
to put on sackcloth and ashes.
Nineveh, hear me!
City of Repentance, hear me!
how blessed are you, O Nineveh!
Rome has become a beacon of death,
inviting all the world to enter her;
to eat the fruits of her vanities,
and to praise her for her vanities.
Rome, there is none like her,
in all The Earth, nothing like Rome;
a pit of death and despair,
of rot and stench, and despair,
making pleasantries to kings.
In a land of sickness and decay,
a tree has born her fruit;
fruits not good of their own accord,
but because they hang upon his cross,
with him, in him; as one with him,
these fruits are justified before God.
But in a land of sickness and decay,
far removed from her in the spirit;
they labor and they toil for gold,
they labor and they toil for power,
they labor and they toil for vanities.
Speaking vain things, empty prayers,
full of hypocrisy, they speak vanities.
So it is fulfilled in her,
that the fruits of The Kingdom;
shall be given to a nation less worthy.
O God, my Father, hear me,
in the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ,
hear me, O my God;
that in rest I find no rest, Father,
and in receiving, I only give.
This is the work of The Sabbath Day,
a prophecy from Your Son, Jesus Christ;
that in a time of no laborers,
those who toil find no rest.
That one who carries a burden, Father,
has no place to put it down;
no time what so ever to relax.
©2026 Maria Morisot
