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When Chicken Little made his famous assertion The Sky is falling, many questioned his viewpoint. To see impending doom takes a good line of sight, and most know chickens can’t fly worth a crap. So why then do weird-bird poets like Chicken Little keep on yakking about the end of the world? Simple, if one can’t see past the beak, the sky falls for them every day from sheer lack of preparation. Douglas K Pearson may not be the highest-flying poet debuting from the birdbath. Only time tells. But metaphorically, Pearson has been wind blasted with a sundry of life’s ugly updrafts. Enough to know that he is deadly afraid of heights. Pearson’s argument and insights show how the genociders of horizon’s storm will not only depopulate half the earth, but that such evil is nothing personal. And in the context of yesteryear’s violent tempest, he seeks to empower us how to live strong and face death with the valor of God.
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