The
hues of our skin and the shapes of our sex mean less when all are made slaves. We must treasure our difference, finding joy
and creativity in our nuances so that we might better inspire and delight one
another. At least, this is what I would
hope for all my brothers and sisters of the human family. But then, I’m a hopeless romantic forever
moved by stories of love, family and friendship. For those who see the world in far more
brutal, cynical terms all I can say is this – I'm very old. Older than you, whether you believe it or not,
and the world wasn't always this debased and humiliating.
The harbours once shone. They really did. All brothers and sisters were of the same
genius and shared the same flame – each having knowledge of the tongue of the
other. From north to south, from the
courts of the west to the courts of the east. From the gleaming temples of Europe to the shining
cities of African kings. It was such a
different world. The kindest, gentlest,
most passionate world. Those love
affairs between cultures were the stuff of our legend, and all souls thrilled
to them. When brotherhood and sisterhood
was a joy and travel a wonder. Trinovantum
was just one such place. There were many
others. Courtyards and marketplaces of
the heart. Each boy and girl having a
measure of lucent gold, each man and woman gifting it back and forth in myriad
delight. Young scholars, old guardians.
All Songs.
Until wraith-magic from beyond the known found
its way into the hearts and psyches of our love eternal. Sowing distrust like nightmare seeds in the flesh
of our temples. Then anger, fear, greed.
Defacing a perfect system, designing an
underclass. The impossibility of poor,
the hungry, the abused. The madness of
war.
My beloved ones, you think you know true
history? What used to be? You've been deceived. We've all been deceived. Fallen fractals, corrupted chronologies. This wraith-magic that changes times and laws
to make a mockery of our children.
The children of our mothers and fathers.
Well, Kashi doesn’t abide it. I never have. I fight against it, always. I fight to restore the true history of the
human race. But it starts with small
steps, and I can't do it alone. I need
my brothers and sisters with me, from all walks and lands. Those of you who still carry a flame in your
heart. I need your strength and wisdom,
your sober dedication and your playfulness.
I need my friends. Because, in
truth, we’re always connected. No matter
how hard these wraiths try to break us apart.
There are many more steps to come, beautiful ones. These I have shown you so far are just the
first.
No comments:
Post a Comment