I hear a voice asking: How long do we still have to endure Raca, yes how long before we can resist the creature. I hear a Big Voice saying: Behold, it is already the last hour and the writing is already on the end-time wall. So, cast the sword and hit accurately, because Sion’s call for help has already been sent to Elohim.

I hear a voice saying: The porridge is rotten and the milk is thick and sour. The sky is dim because of all the dust, yes, everything is rough and the weather is bad everywhere. Food is becoming scarce and very expensive, yes with inflated petrol prices, famine is here for sure.

But Raca is laughing and still dancing like a wild beast and boisterously he cheerfully and exuberantly drinks his leavened beer. He robs and murder for his pleasure and he boasts with the skin of an extinct tiger around his shoulders. Defiantly he flexes every muscle and the law says: It is his right, it is his culture.

I hear a Voice calling: Behold, the Grey Horse is now sent across the entire country. Nobody wants to buy or rent and on every farm there is an empty shed. The fire now runs wide through every town and city, across mountain and valley. There is no hope or salvation, there is no cure. The pestilence is also here and the virus spreads through kidney and gland.

I hear a voice asking: For how long do we still have to endure Raca, yes how long before we can resist the creature. I hear another Voice saying: Behold, it is already the last hour and the writing is already on the end-time wall. So, cast the sword and hit accurately, because Sion’s cry for help has already been sent to Elohim.