The cult in the snow

The cult in the snowThere is a kind of cold that belongs to Canada alone. It gets into the bones and stays. Men build strange things in that kind of weather. Some build cabins. Some build churches. Some build little secret empires in basements and rented houses, where the curtains stay drawn and the lights stay low and the truth never sees a window

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I Was Chosen by God: Earth Angel, Master Healer”By Roy Dawson

I did not ask to be chosen. I did not seek out the burden of sacredness or the weight of unseen war. But in the silence between battles and the spaces between breath, something called my name—and it was not a whisper. It was thunder.It came at night, as these things always do. When the world is quiet and the lies no longer hold. I was not sleepin

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