I am the giver of the cloud of confort that quickens the heart and make some ill. I'v been buffeted about the head, kidnaped, inslaved by mail, locked in a tower made from keys. I eat the body and drink the blood one teaspoon at a time on a not so regular bases. I read a book that condemns the father of confusion, yet the book itself confuses the newy read. I worship the one who turned water into wine, that I shell not drink.
My eyes discern but not judge.