She had prayed so long her knees knew the shape of the floor.At night, when the house was quiet and the glow of the phone had finally gone black, she would sit at the edge of her bed and talk to God the way lonely people do. Not with fine words. With need.“Send me a man who is not a boy,” she said.“Send me someone brave. Honest. Loyal. A man

The Weight of Being Seenby Roy Dawson Earth Angel Master Magical HealerI’ve had this conversation with everyone — from business tycoons to the well-connected and wealthy.And they all say the same thing: “Well Roy, that’s just not how things work. That’s not how the system operates.”And I say:Exactly. That’s the damn problem.Look at