It is 1:47 PM Wednesday that time of day to write down some words. I love words. I am thankful I have a voice and can speak words. My desire since I was saved by the Lord Jesus is to get the Word of God out into the world. I have been called to be a messenger of Good Tidings. I have Good News to share with mankind and am thankful I can write and speak words that can be used of God the Holy Spirit to bring people salvation. I got up this morning around 6:10 AM. I came upstairs after I woke up to go through my morning routine. It must be horrible to have ones way of life destroyed like the Ukraine people. To wake up each day knowing your way of life has been destroyed by the Russians. To see the Russians kill your loved ones and then blow up your house. It is all beyond my comprehension the horrors inflicted on the Ukraine people by the Russians. It all seems so senseless, because in the end no one wins. I spent the morning writing in my paper diary and reading from a book titled, 'The Life of Jesus Christ' Part Two Volume 1, Chapters 1-57 by Ludolph of Saxony. Carol called me from Washington State around 9:10 AM our time and we talked for an hour. We closed our telephone call with prayer. I did leave our house for a short spell to visit a near by thrift store to look at their used books. I found one old used paperback titled, 'The Silk Roads: A New History Of The World' by Peter Frankopan. This afternoon UPS delivered a memoir I had ordered titled, 'A Childhood-The Biography Of A Place' by Harry Crews. Last night I watched the second part of the PBS documentary on the life of Benjamin Franklin. I went to bed around 10:45 PM. I have been reading this afternoon once again the book, 'Stories Done: Writings on the 1960's and Its Discontents' by Mikal Gilmore. I suppose I will close to pray. When the last rose of summer pricks my finger, And the hot sun chills me to the bone, When I can't hear the song for the singer, And I can't tell my pillow from a stone, I will walk alone by the black muddy river, And sing me a song of my own, I will walk alone by the black muddy river, And sing me a song of my own. When the last bolt of sunshine hits the mountain, And the stars start to splatter in the sky, When the moon hits the southwest horizon, With the scream of an eagle on the fly, I will walk alone by the black muddy river, And listen to the ripples as they moan, I will walk alone by the black muddy river, And sing me a song of my own. Black muddy river, roll on forever, I don't care how deep or wide, if you've got another side, Roll muddy river, roll muddy river, black muddy river, roll. When it seems like the night will last forever, And there's nothing left to do but count the years, When the strings of my heart begin to sever, And stones fall from my eyes instead of tears, I will walk alone, by the black muddy river, And dream me a dream of my own, I will walk alone, by the black muddy river, And sing me a song of my own, sing me a song of my own.