Rejoice in this love with joy, like a child who does not grow up, who lives the days with care, with small and big gestures in 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.
- → I always bless my children who listen to my teachings, who let themselves be led by me, who rejoice in this revelation, who love me, who love themselves as sons and recognize the lineage between me and them.
- → 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.
- → When you can not find the way, listen in silence, with love, do not confuse me, your father, pure love with the world that is not pure and that is not love.
- → Today, every day, I am here with you, I look at you, I listen to you, I hold you by the hand, in my heart, in my thoughts, so tight as to make me feel in my whole being, to make you stop, detach from the things of the world. and really look for me.
- → 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.
- → For me, it is better to see my son worrying sweetly for me and not brutally for the world.
Relative arguments