Note:  I apologize for the lack of updates in recent weeks!  I have been traveling and using my ‘free time’ after this campaign to catch up on lose ends.  However, I am back and hope to continue political coverage on my blog: ‘How To Think Too Much’ www.thinktoomuch.wordpress.com   as well as more Duncan Hunter related information here.

Here are some thoughts as I have pondered the fact that Congressman Hunter was our only hope to fix some fatal problems we are facing in our country right now:

Dreamers are silly little characters are they not?
They always show up at the wrong time.
Too late.
They always wake up several hours after when they are most needed…
…in the pitch of black.

It is under the pressure of persecution, attack, violence, that the most profound thoughts are given flight and wing.

The revolutionary tendencies that fester within dreamers only come under pressure. Too often, it’s to little too late.

But not always.

1776.
William Wallace
William Wilberforce

But alas, my people sleep, and the dreamers are still dreaming so lightly that they have yet to realize they are dreaming…and only wake up with dulled memory.

What will it take to awake the dreamers before it is too late? Before the prophecies and fears of those who live and die for freedom come to pass.

When?

When the white stones are overturned, unbuilt… and the bell is cracked to the top so that it splits in two. The lady on the water bends and loses her light. The chains are placed on the free. Bravery is an old idea. those who reside in this home are enslaved.

That is when the dreamers will awake, if not before.

But will it be too little too late?

The thousand years of darkness prophesied by the actor-king, as he addressed regarding the golden water will come to pass… and the dreamers will never sleep….and sleepers never dream. The Key to the tomb of Francis will be buried, as Scott rolls over in his grave.

O say, I can’t see, for there is no dawn’s early light..only a dusk that kills all. That which we so proudly hailed was taken down and stomped upon as we watched in apathy. Broad stripes from knotted rope are upon my back, and the stars are covered by cloud. The damning fight dwindles under the rolling, cold clouds. The rockets are glaring down, the bombs are stealing and stealing and stealing…love and peace and family. But they gave no proof, except that our flag is not there. For the star spangled banner does not yet wave, o’er the land…. of…. who?

This may become our Orwellian future if the dreamers….locked inside their church steeples, instead of the church steeples being built inside of them…. do not awake until beaten into it by the masters of evil. As we speak, the darkness loom over the horizon. The two towers of the godless, and those under the faux law are united, infiltrating, and wishing curses upon His Kingdom.

Fear it.

Believe it.

Change it.

God Bless America. God Bless his Church. God Bless Freedom.

and God have mercy on us, if we fail to bless these three things….for we will be held accountable in heaven for what we did, or did not do.

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