Never underestimate the importance of fun, especially in a crisis. This is the wisdom of both angels and Man. But those merciless profiteers who want us fed on a glut of insecurity and shame – they hate real fun. It sounds kind of obvious, doesn't it? But those ruined mortals and the wraiths that whisper in their ears – they are dark and deranged. Truly they are. They know neither the value or strength of cloth, nor the armour of accent. Radiant beauty; the way fabrics fold around a steady centre. A little blush, or powder, and suddenly the light in the eyes is seen. Beauty is revelatory. It's both essential and applied. An art, dynamic. A blessed augment revealing a hidden truth. The finest, most delicate glamour.
It can achieve so many wonderful things. It can ready the hem of a conqueror, bringing them face to face with a mirror they can welcome at last. Imagine that? Gifting strength in a gesture of total grace. A holy working that says, “You are worthy of such attention. Now come and find me, among the stars.” Awakened to a palette of promise and colour. Daughters and sons. Like seeing themselves for the first time, through the lens of lifted spirit. What a gift it is. Fate's three upon the augur, indeed. Seven’s dreams upon the mount. Can you imagine, my beloved ones? A spirit walking with growing confidence and surety, clothed in light? A soul that hates the mirror less and less, or the window of the eye?
Victory. Ergo, the pearl.
Shining tempest of a thriving, nurtured realm.
If a wandering prince can feel such wisdom in it, know too that a princess has felt so much more. Mother’s magic in Father’s fields, echoing over hill and dale. We all know the sound of hearts breaking with joy is so much sweeter than sorrow's fracture. Joy heals as it breaks, doesn’t it? The delight of grace. The excitement of recognition and playful tender. Wildest is the passion that knows how to flirt with rhythm. When to be gentle and when to be fierce. Both have their melodies and magic. Beyond wraith-made darkness, or shame, or the horrors of dehumanization. We are so much bigger than all of it. Love is real, and fun, and holy. It will not be circumscribed or constrained, not without a fight. Flesh is our temple of the spirit. We stand our ground, and our sky. Reaching with beauty for higher planes. Every body is perfect, and every striving soul, whether these callous ones like it or not. In times of crisis a little mischief can mean the world.
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