The vision is an army of young people. You see bones? I see an army. They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations. They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying. This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause. Foundations shaking. Revolutionaries dreaming once again. This is the sound of the underground. Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms. Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes. And this generation prays like a dying man with groans beyond utterance, with warrior cries, acidic tears and with great barrow loads of laughter! Whatever it takes they will give: Breaking the rules. Shaking mediocrity from its cozy little hide. Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs, laughing at labels, fasting essentials. The advertisers cannot mould them. Hollywood cannot hold them. Peer-pressure is powerless to shake their resolve. With blood and sweat and tears, they pray as if it all depends on God and live as if it all depends on them. This vision will come to pass.  It is the longing of creation itself, the very dream of God. There's only seconds remaining...