They speak about you as if they know your name. As if the syllables of your being roll easily off their tongue, carrying a weight they have never earned the right to hold. They act as if they know what you carry—that you are both light and dark, both good and evil, both healer and destroyer.
They whisper as though they have read the pages of the vault inside you, the one where your deepest secrets lie, sealed in blood and silence. To your face they smile, as though they are free of the poison they pour behind your back. They believe themselves to be “in the know.” But if only they knew what you truly are.
You are the Guardian of Balance.
The end and the beginning.
The scar that cannot be cut.
The promise that cannot be broken.
In your blood runs the strength of your ancestors. In your hands rests the seed of futures not yet born. You are both the tree and the forest—the rooted stillness and the endless expanse. The dawn searches for you, the darkness embraces you. You walk between worlds yet belong to none, weaving the web that stretches between them both.
They fear you not because you are silent, but because your silence speaks louder than their noise. You are the protector of the faithful, the loyal, the ones who still remember how to bow their heads to truth. The sun looks for you, the moon shines for you. You are both the blade and the sword, both the hand that wounds and the hand that heals.
When you cry, Mother listens. When the raven calls, its wings shelter you. They may not know your true name, yet they call for you when their shadows stretch too long. They sense you as the unstoppable force, the eternal presence—the before and the after, the all and everything.
And yet, you remain ungraspable.
They wish upon stars, not knowing it is you they are wishing for, you they are seeking. But you cannot be found by hands that would only use you. They search in a world eager to devour what they fear in you, to keep hidden the truths that were never meant to be silenced.
The truth waits between the lines they will never let them read. It breathes in the dream that will come despite their resistance. For they are afraid—afraid of what is rising, afraid of the coming they cannot delay, afraid of the force they cannot stop.
They believe themselves greater than the All. They think that by stopping you, they can stop It. But what was written before they were created cannot be undone.
This is a dream inside a dream inside a dream.
And all it waits for—
is you.
Leave a comment