And when I can see you in your highest light,

I would call you My Grace,

For how well you have demonstrated it, again and again.

Leaves shake in the wind

As the rain pours on the forest floor below.

Water droplets soak the ground for growth.

Giving birth to new life

After storms and strife.

A fresh beginning, made from recent revision.

Sun parts through the clouds.

There's no more division.

A warm light now glows, giving view to a divine vision.

My soul now in remission.

It is time to make a very important decision.

To hold on, or go forth on the Hero's expedition.

Don the armour, be brave and bold.

Or stay back, let not the story be told.

To deny my heart, may leave me cold.

False stories I shall not be sold.

Behold, the guiding light, fire of my soul;
And through my example
Change how destiny unfolds.

It's weird. . .

The way humans shame those who can and do feel more deeply than them,

For having a more intensely experienced reality,

Just because they can't see it, hear it, feel it, then it must be

That we are just over-dramatic, that we are "making it up" . . .

Right?

But really, who's fault is it that you're still dead inside?