I, the eternal father, love you, I overwhelm every being with my love, I caress you and keep you united in eternal love.
Above all love
A hidden inheritance
- of Francesco Arista and Antonella Molica
Argument
- → My children don't feel loved.
- → Now my children feel they are not understood, because the mechanism where they live is made of emptiness, of nothing, of something that has no substance, concreteness and coherence.
- → My children must recognize the poverty, the misery of the world, which hurts them, look inside themselves, wonder who they are, where they come from, who they belong to, who I am, what our relationship is, look at the world, what surrounds them, they must recognize why they feel weak, fragile, without resources.
- → Turn to me with jolts of love not small, swaying, fast, overwhelming, shattering even your life, which I have given you.
- → Because I have transmitted and given to you the love of my being, you possess it, it is not impure, it is pure and it is a free love, which brings peace and justice.
- → You already possess the eternal love that I have for you and I have given abundantly, with love and joy.
- → I am a father, I perform wonders every day, I give in abundance, I do not stop, I work continuously.
- → This is the love that makes us meet, revealed, not illusory, in the fullness that I give to my children.
- → Now you know what can hurt you, what does not make you know me and you, who are love.
- → The realized son finally accomplished everything he wanted, for which he lived to know me, can understand the parts of his life he thought empty, he fills that nonexistent vacuum, he is completely alive, true, full, shining and brilliant.
- → Only in me you can know beauty, love, be safe and live in eternal light.
- → I have made you know in love me and the law of love.
- → The world invades my son overwhelmingly, in anguish, it has no law, no rule of love, it uses means that overwhelm, it destroys every one of my sons until it plunges him into destruction, it uses my son, it takes possession of my son without delicacy, without gentleness, without love, it struggles to possess, to use my son with pain, with torment and with breathlessness.
Relative arguments