Tonight in flowing prayer (thank you for refreshing). I remember a seed. A vision of arts flowing in colors and music, they gather. I see them crying out and dancing flowing like colorful thin banners, the people are the banners. Other banners blow up in the ceilings, some have projected images and symbols and words flashing on them. I see revelation coming to them and they write poems, statements, constitutions, declarations, changing the world. Their prayers are like substance that goes out to build and change the world behind and beyond the wills of men.
In large buildings they dance, colors fill the room, lights moving in colors, sounds and beats and music, waves and winds. Some on platforms, some on sofas, some at booths and tables, some just chatting and laughing or hugging. They go on into the nights.
Then I see this other group or rather another setting. It's outdoors. John the Baptistish. They are out. They are called out. They go to seek, to hear, to wait. They go to the desert. Nothing of man they seek. They are going to find the voice that created the wilderness. They seek to leave behind the clutter of voices of man and culture. I see stars at night, and heated sun by day. I see water to drink and blankets and mats to sit on and tents or caves to nap in. Some have music and drums and fires burning. Like the Israelites in the wandering desert with power to sleep by. They wait, they seek, they cry. They feel anxious and desperate at times, then as though they would pop or explode because of overwhelming joy and fulfillment. They want to cry out this blessing over the earth. The treasures they are finding strengthen them.
These groups flow together. One inside, the other away and outside. They are urban yet they are as though they come from a wilderness.
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