The dying may begin, red to green and then to the righ. It’s the track with least noise of all like a soft punch muffled in the snow, not all is heard that is being said those voices are further away than thoughts aloud. One starts to realise I am not like my father and in the end we are at one with our own being, till the bitter, so bitter tastless ends, and that my sins are different than my fathers and I never inherited them I was just his son, amen.
By Mason Cult Poet
Mason Cult Poet was born in Westmorland in the Lake District in a farming engineering community. On one side of the family many portions of nobility mainly the Stuarts. Mason Cult did as the herd does and went through the education process. attended drama school and ran small businesses. The stigma of mental health issues blighted him as it does with all creative people, was diagnosed in 2011 with a form of Asperger’s Syndrome which can impair executive function however it has given him a higher sense to see what others do not and from this ability he concludes the world is controlled by esoteric forces and that other interventions operate steering the world we know ro a new beginning.. What we witness we are forced to challenge and the work of Mason Cult assists this
Exodus Chapter 20
: You shall not bow yourself down to them, nor serve them. For I the LORD your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the sons to the third and fourth generation of those that hate me, and showing mercy to thousands of those that love Me and keep My commandments.
Mason, the sins of our fathers are only visited upon us if we hate God. God has mercy on those who love Him.