When I speak of justice, I mean that of every child justified in love and loved in the same measure.
Above all love
A hidden inheritance
- of Francesco Arista and Antonella Molica
Argument
- → I do not leave you.
- → I have leaved my children free of search, discover, find me, that every man would seek me freely and in a personal way.
- → I guide you with motherly hand, I leave you free, I am close to my sons, I am the sweet song of love and the pure sound of all beings.
- → I am the one who lives forever, I call you to get involved with me, I am for my children the first, the last and the eternal living.
- → I'm here for you, to listen to you and support you, and I encourage you to be strong, to believe in yourself, not to let yourselves get knocked down, not to stop searching and improving.
- → Each of my children becomes a ghost that wanders along deceptive roads, does not recognize his and my identity, possesses a not vain, great love, throws himself into extreme choices, lets himself be overwhelmed by the evil that the world has taught him to travel, he does not recognize the beauty of God the Father, the love between father and son, he is clouded by something apparent, which is fixed deeply in his thoughts, in his memory, he is unable to work for my kingdom, for himself, not he knows what possesses him and harms him.
- → Every my child has uncertainties that are not his own, that the world has labeled, sculpted, he lives spotted by an useless label given him from the world, he must only be able to find me, my light, his light and his love.
- → My children struggle, climb, in a life that passes in trouble, in the poverty of love, of reason, they believe they are limited, they have thoughts that do not develop towards me, ears that do not listen, a heart as big as the mine, which they themselves limit in 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.
- → Too much makes you worry, too little leads you to unawareness.
Relative arguments