The Twin Cities

I just returned from a trip.  I thought I would share what I saw. I have visited this most unusual place many times. I would imagine you  have already been a tourist there yourself. I just thought you might be interesting in what I saw.
As you most likely know there is no forewarning of when you are getting close nor are there any signs saying when you are about to  leave.
This small  metropolis is snuggled next to a muddy river. I believe this is the only place in the entire universe,  that heaven and hell share a common border.

There is not even a deep void dividing the two. One can simply take a few steps and walk from heaven to hell or back again depending on which way his or her guide may decide to take them.

The little city goes by two  names. One is Sinsville and it openly brags of its horrible crime rate. The sun never comes up and at noon it is only twilight .

No where in all time has a city claimed as many cold blooded brutal murders per hour as Sinsville.

In the front of a run down brothel stands a little man with a horrible case of acme . He sneers at the passers by.

“No where including Solomon and Gomorrah are the women as free or loose as the are here. Come have your pick. Here no one ever finds out nor lives to tell”

This is a terrible place for children to live. They are often beaten, and tortured just for the pleasure of their attackers and the terror seeking gangs that chase them.

The bad people run faster than the good ones and time seems to stand still for the victims. It is nothing unusual to see someone on their way to work or school wearing only their underwear or nothing at all. The shame on their faces tell it all as everyone stops and stares.

The other name for this little city is Paradise Lost. My Grandparents live there just on the outskirts of town. The crime rates stops just up the street from their house as abruptly as it  starts. Where they live the sun never sets and there is always one of my favorite deserts in the stove.

The sweet scent of an apple pie will travel for miles. It never rains there and every dog I have ever lost lives in their neighbor hood. Each one as young and strong as I when I was a child. They set patently waiting for me on the front porches that line the old oak covered streets.

Just down the lane lies fields of wild flowers that go on for eternity. The only thing that interrupts the pleasant horizons of flowers is a old occasional farm house that has been abounded for years and now is set aside for the storage of hay and special hiding places for little boys and there dogs.

The ditchs have blankets of wild roses cascading down their banks but when I visit I seldom notice because I am too busy holding off a army of renegade Indians that only my dog and I  can only see.

And then just as suddenly as I found this paradise I roll over in my bed and it is once more lost till I dream again another night.

I hope you visit this strange place often. No one seems to intentionally go to the bad side of town yet we are all pulled there. I can’t tell you why we as human beings have a need for violence and destruction. Yet not a one of us can deny the fact that in our dreams it so often conjured up.

My advice is to hold these visions near. A man that doesn’t dream has no future. Only in our dreams can we examine our dark side. In our dreams  our creative spirits roam freely. I pray that I dream till the very end when I believe my favorite dream of all will come into reality and I will meet my Lord and savior and he will personally escorts me home.

 

 

 

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