Can miracles happen?

That has yet to be seen. Can my worthless carcass be saved from the cold, wet streets of LA? Am I doomed beyond all hope as a bottom dwelling resident of the Empire of the United States?

Those questions are what befalls me now. A glimmer of hope...just a glimmer...may save Christmas for me after all. I will know in the next few days. To what extent then...I do not know. It is a precarious existence I am living. Walking on a tightrope so thin that barely a thread does it hold. Ever breathing the cold air of injustice...do I not feel the executioners' blade upon my throat?

Is it within the purvey of chance...or the will of the supreme being...though neither makes little difference to those destitute souls already feeling the sting of hypocracy and injustice. So it is that I feel the same blade. Marked as Judas...or celebrated as Christ. My treatise for such belief is shaky...at best. A small particle of dust am I...yet I feel as large as the moon in the blackened night sky. I am a target of the regime that has yet to be killed off...though try as they might.

Holding me down...pressing ever harder on the heart which continues to beat. That is the way of the regime. What they cannot kill of the body...they kill through the soul. Remove all hope...and life becomes a mundane chore. Remove all love...and life becomes an empty shell. A slow and agonizing death to be sure. It has been 14 years for me...yet still hope do I find...still love do I feel from far away. So long as her heart beats...so shall mine. The invisible link the regime cannot destroy.

Some things are stronger than regimes, empires and governments. Things crafted in the wisdom of heaven. Things universal throughout the world that rise above the petty differences of the nation-states. So I have come to witness one of those things...one which the regime cannot touch. Though the body may fall...the soul is immune from the abuses which all humans must endure on this earth. Kill my body...they may yet complete...but my soul and my heart will forever part from their grasp. Now in my darkest hours...as my belief fails...my hope fades...my faith waivers...do I understand the power of love. It rejuvenates my soul in times of need and desperation. It binds me to my purpose of life. It offers salvation when there is no other.

Be it of heaven...or of chance...it is of this realm of human existence that miracles can happen.
So it is I hope to be saved...that my love can cure the ills of which I suffer...that once again I can find life where now there is none. My soul of the moon...can you hear me calling?