Good Jesus, I’ve seen them, heard them, felt them. They’re chasing my children…the black riders. I believe with all I am that this world is shot straight through with breathtaking beauty. But I also know evil rides, often hardest after those so fresh from you, those I love most dear. When they and I were young, I held them close and tight, in brightest day no evil did escape my sight. But we are all older now and they’re roving beyond me, further from the shire, as it is supposed to be. And so I raise a prayer on this father’s day eve, no doubt one your ears know well, one voiced by my father and my father’s father…one I believe you too whispered for your only begotten as he laid his glory down and ventured into blackest night: what grace is given me, let it pass to them. Good Jesus, when the memory of the fear and darkness troubles them, please be near to them. I beg of you, please. They are the splendor… Amen.