A sandstorm, with harsh cruel silver lightening flashes, waters gushing forth from clouds above, rain like diamonds as hailstones cutting like pocket knives into the bodies of cars and trucks, gouging a hole into someone's head, catching hail like baseballs with a mit, golf balls, slicing splitting things in half, running with no site to take shelter.
The freezing-ness of a hailstorm, ice crystals, small snowmen, cold blasts and windstorm, sand picking up on the shoreline, lake waters rippling like sheaves of hay thrown everywhere, a harvest of broken bread, bread dipped dumped, escalated skated, open mouths with no one being fed, slipping on icy pavement as you try to get under a tree, trees falling trees not to be worshiped, not a Christmas tree, not an old Oak or Maple, idols all.
Calling to God to safely take you out of this sandstorm, to protect your property your car your household, a time to know that all are targeted as was Sodom and Gemorrah, God said all must go, all must drown or burn except for Lot and his family. No choices, dust blown away, God did not save 100, or 75 or 50, even though there could have been more than one good soul.
The wearing of black clothing after destruction, phoenixes appearing out of the dust, people without shoes, slippers, a place to hide, a place warm without ice, a place to quench thirst, a place welcoming after a sickness of a sandstorm.
Bomb shelters all filled up, the coast is clear, look upwards no rockets, a sky not lighted up, a firework of celebration not a missile. Opening shelter doors, back to work, no one killed, a Wizard of Oz who returns us all home, a Wizard Who came out to disclose Himself, saying Who He really is is God.
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