We've all been touched by doubt or darkness at some point in our lives, haven't we? This world can be so ugly and unforgiving. Especially toward the innocent. The vulnerable. The very young or very old. Those most in need of consideration and protection. As children we learn of war and nightmarish chaos, and all the roles and obligations we're expected to fulfil as we mature. Obligations seemingly without rhyme or reason. What it means to be a man, or a woman. What it means to be a warrior, or a poet. As sentient beings we describe, conjure and delineate the world with the language and concepts available to us. Often these societal languages are unspoken, contextual and unfair. They seem to make our choices for us, ghost-writing our lives in sinister ways. Who we should love and why. What we should stand for, or not. But I tell you, the forces controlling this world concede almost nothing. Every kind and noble freedom we have today was fought for. Rebuilt from the ruins of a once tangible paradise. Snatched from the bitter grasp of these wraith-kings through ingenuity, with passion and dedication.
We would be nothing without those brave men and women who fought for something more. Equality, health, humanity. They still fight for us. We still fight for each other. Not to eradicate what we hate but to protect and honour what we love. Those things that make life worth living, even in this wraith-made darkness.
Friends, don't ever let these callous ones convince you that you don't matter. Don't let them fool you into thinking you possess no agency, or worth. You can indeed make a difference. In your own life, in the lives of your loved ones – and in the lives of people you'll never meet. At least on this side of the veil. Have you ever heard a spirit calling from their depths to a stranger, just to thank them for an anonymous kindness? I have. Such paths cross in my Father's kingdom. Things connect. People meet again. Love is eternal there, and limitless. Our hearts already grasp this, don't they?
We are the stories we tell.
Those who carve a path for their brethren are truly cherished. Those who teach, or heal, or delight. Those who make melody or dance. Love's philosophy is no affectation in the homelands beyond the veil. It’s the very essence of Heaven's Light. There is nothing higher than being of service to each other. I know this as my Father knows this, though I'm all too fallible. Of course. But I'm still trying, despite the toll this war has taken. On me, and my cherished ones. I'm not the only one who lost everything when Kara fell. But like any true warrior of light I want to stand for the principles of our homeland, until it kills me for good. Courage, kindness, honour. I want to reclaim as much of this wisdom and strength as I can, from the ashes of templefell. These hideous wraith-kings who declare humanity is merely meat, and death, and suffering. These wicked ones who would defile my Mother's magic and twist my Father's word.
It must be exhausting to live your life in fear of Creation's true regent.
On our own we’re just little points of light, struggling for sense and safety like tiny stars. Scattered radiant in a wraith-ruled abyss. But, of course, when we come together we can shine as family; blazing brighter than the sun. This is how progress is always made, in any realm. We are the sum total of our choices after all. We're made of the love we give and take, aren't we? The true ecology of spirit. And the spirit can still soar, despite the uncertainty and brutality of mortal life. All have been touched by darkness or doubt at some point in our lives, but all have also been graced with favour. Even if we can’t recognise it. I know it isn’t a just or fair realm anymore, my friends. I can feel how much pain we’re all in, believe me. But we were never abandoned. There are bright ones everywhere, seen and unseen. Mortal and immortal. I know it’s difficult to believe sometimes, but it’s true. I swear it to you. There are emissaries here who hold open the sky for benevolent travellers. I'm just one of them. My beloved is another. But there are many of us. We may not have the stature we once did, back when the soil was rich and the trees still sang – before the wars, and the seething hush – but we are still brighter than all shadow. And together, wingtip to wingtip, our hearts can light a shining path of hope for those generations still to come.