There really are secrets hidden in
the sun, my darlings. The star at
midnight. The mount that shone for
worlds around, like the heavens were closer somehow. I still remember those days. That frightening,
magical time. The laying of hands, the
birthing of rivers. A celestial map for
those with eyes to see, written in the night sky. I am only a herald. A wayshow. I'm just a madman who drowned a long, long
time ago. But I speak the truth. I never lied to you, my cherished ones. Not about this. Not about these sacred matters of the heart. Joshua's sun standing still. Joshua's moon. Over the valley of secret names. Dalen of Isra.
Circle of Ishka. Mount of the First Light. Half-remembered pieces of the old chronology,
made scripture now. The lost history of the shining realm. The sunken realm. K'athari Kara, as the old poets and healers
blessed. Yohanan. Brother, river, mended wing. But a seeker must come willingly. A soul has to want to rise again. To soar, and know. Temet Nosce. It matters little of who comes bearing
messages if no one is listening. What
does it matter of angels pretending poets if the heart is dead? Letters hidden in light will remain hidden if
no one is willing to read. So, my
darlings, please hear me. This Land of the
Midnight Sun is truly a realm of secrets within secrets. Sovereignty and songlines. Kashi may have placed those secrets. I may have opened these gates and allowed
these visions, but I didn't author the essence of the magic within them. The truth of the heart is something far
greater than any of its servants combined. I’m only a king of dreams. But, in truth, among the Fields of Heaven I’m
a willing servant. A warrior, in perpetuity.
It’s my life’s work, and always has
been. Because more than anything I want
you to know that you are stronger than all your doubts and fears. I want you to sense it in your depths and
feel it in your bones. That you were
always integral and never arbitrary or unloved. You are still your Father’s child. Together we are brighter than any form of spiritual
darkness, and that's the truth. John
promises you that. I really do cherish you,
my beloved ones. And if I can I want to
help you remember what it feels like to rise.
The Lighthouse from Raj Sisodia on Vimeo.
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