An ethereal creature named Liberty is not faring well at all. She no longer stands on her own but is reclined and closely monitored. Her breathing is assisted mechanically and her heart beats to the pulse of her very own electrical grid. What thoughts she still has of her own are recorded and stored remotely, against the event of social heresy, and an entertainment screen, now fixed before her eyes, plays out a thousand and one variants of the latest narrative. 

She has run her course bravely and purely, through a world of hungry and snarling tyrants. She has led an army of the lovers of her heart, humbling and emboldening them to strike courageously, all together, as  one, in faithful union with the God who made them, the Son who saves them, and the Spirit that has urged them on, above all earthly things, to lift her up for His sake, that His children might be free to choose Him, and so to be loved by Him.

Her followers are falling away, day by day, paying her lip service, rather than faithfulness, denying their own betrayal, to rush after a dark power that has learned to wear a mask in her image. Those who once boldly dared to challenge the wilderness, now ricochet through a maze of invisible frequencies that note each turn and number and utterance, and forward the facts that feed them, the data that enables their mere existence, to the one that wears the mask, another ethereal being, the ruler of the air.

"We are united! We are the defenders of Freedom!" the heroes of this generation cry out. "Our numbers are vastly superior! We are armed and you are weak," they boast.

"Yes," says the burgeoning new tyrant, "but you've all opted-in to be registered, for the convenience of using my wonderful store, and now I know where each of you are and where you go, and when each of you are alone. And when you gather together to whisper against me, I can hear you. And as I have listened and recorded and measured the threat of each one, I know who you are. And I know when I might come for you."

We go about our lives, encouraged in confidence, and the dark thing grins. We march together, beneath our heralding flags, in the thrall of our blaring trumpets, onward toward the great decision day, less than a year away.  We are becoming fearless, but all the while our future is being prepared for us, or those of us who, by chance, survive.

The masters of information are merely practicing on China. Has nobody noticed that Google and Facebook, and a host of well integrated others, have been working, hand in hand, day in and out, with the Communist government to create an utterly demonic social credit system that controls each citizen down to the very finest tuning?

But America is the ultimate target, and we are riper for the plucking than we might wish to believe. They are tap dancing around, almost harmlessly now, in their tinkering with the control of vital information (lest the alarm be sounded in earnest), but their patterned steps betray their plans for a full mounted charge, when the hour is upon us and there's nothing that can be done. 

 Trump is unlike anyone who has come before or will come after. I believe he is trying to lift sweet Liberty up from her bed of despair. I believe he is trying to clue us in. There IS an impostor! Time is short and the river of history is running against us. I believe this next election is our last chance. I believe the next election will make the nightmares of the Kavanaugh hearings and the impeachment fiasco seem like a kitten's meow, compared to the screaming banshees that will be unleashed. Leftist hate will assume the mantle of reason and conservative reason will be banished as hate, and as such, hard to find on most devices, in the critical areas. As the algorithms of influence demand. Leftist violence will be measured out, as can be blamed on the right. Ballots will die in the dark and be born again as Democrat choices. Others will spring up from forgotten closets, in the needed precincts, just in time. The conspirators will be encouraged and justified because Orange man bad, and this is their last chance (it isn't, but they'll be lead to believe it is).

Night is falling. Lady Liberty's breathing is labored, tortured and fading. When America falls her heroes will be at a loss to speak freely amongst themselves, because we have given away the keys to our privacy.

Each one will be alone and have to pretend to bow, for a time, while choosing a target, and then be willing to die. Time will be short till there comes a knock at the door.

Photo credit: Francisco Diez