Gambling with life-blood

(why does the flower still grow?)

How many times I have escaped the black wind of God.

In dark rooms, with dark people, with hidden portals, of hidden power, where life is not in the least bit alive, nor guarded by the smallest thread. These are those moments, with my soul in my own hand, I have walked into the tornado.

And for reasons, I can not yet surmise.

He has let me live.