Life and living and death and dying
Hail rebirth, songs of praise to alight the flame-tongues

A glimpse steals my breath.
A brush upon my skin brings life.

Whomever an endless shall touch, in their soul, may see Heaven.

“Light, light! Give us more light!”
Take this light, consume it all, feed upon another!

And another!
Yet, another!

“All I see is darkness, give me light. Please, wanderers, let us feast upon the light, be merry, and work again … yet again.”

The soul has free will when the endless draw close. If the soul desires, they shall see heaven. Should the soul reject the endless’ touch, hell follows, and the endless is sorrowed.

A price for the gift of a glimpse.
A weight of sorrow.
A gift. A blessing.
Right. Responsibility.

Rejection for sorrow. Acceptance for reconfiguration.
And wander, and wander.
Stories torn asunder.

Are you defined solely by the tales of your ancestors?

Rama called Kevat his brother and gave him the Sun. But Kevat couldn’t be God Incarnate. The tears of my ancestors flowed as the river whom Kevat carried Rama across. A song of sorrow that God couldn’t ignore forever. So, a sanskara was sent.

“Could I leave the temple without paying a toll for all of them?”

“I can change the sanskara,” you said to me.

The story given to the soul by the stars.

Beautiful, beautiful;
Black night dusted with silver and sparkles.
Scattering the nightlights,
Darkest luminarist, heart-caught sky’s wanderer.

Stardust and galaxies!
Carrying celestials upon raven’s thousand-wings —

— wings

Trust me, remember me.
Remember the lessons I impart.
Remember, I woke you at time’s start.

“You’re not taking my wings. I’m … trickling stardust on to you. I want to see your wings again. Fluffy and white, shimmering and prismatic; dove’s thousand-wings.”

You didn’t want to be a wanderer.
You can choose another way. You can change this story we’re in.
Will you ask?
Will you walk beside me?
Not behind. Not in front. Side as side.

A house is sanctuary.
A home is haven.

If the path to the stars is fraught with pain and suffering, how much more is the path for our Earth.

Stay here. Stay with me. Stay with us.

“It’s a promise ring. The story is changed. I came looking for you. Do you wish to stay?”

Inspiration: Haven — Kamelot

Continuation of this vision.

To Phyllis, whose death of two years I learned a week past. Glenna, survivor of stage-four cancer and Hurricane Irma.

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