I have stumbled upon a portal, and I have engaged a dialog in visions, with the One who has promised to answer if I am brave enough to ask. If the dream has faded, the visions have more than compensated...but because of the veil, it is hard.
I can only put my hand on my mouth and shake my head, because of what I hear. It is hard, this word, and I must view it through a bloody lense. One spoke first.
“For whom do you these things? Answer.”
“I suppose for Love. For Truth. Because of the silence.”
“Arise, then, Ghost House, open your eyes and consider Me.”
Then, I heard the paradox of life in the world.
“My children have stumbled, but I lifted them. They have returned to serve those who hate them, for love of Me, and it is a great tribute. My servants fear Me this much, but they are valued as nothing in this world, suffering the dilemmas of women stripped. They are humiliated before their foes, confounded by the rift. But I hover over them, waiting for the right time. Do you understand?”
Purposes beyond my comprehension rainbow through the mind’s eye. I behold them, resplendent and unassailable, like spiraled galaxies, like the structure of the universe. How has the rift managed to disguise this? One spoke again.
“I have moved unnoticed through the Great City of Victory. I have seen fatness, idleness, gross waste, and much worse; age after age the corruptions of the solitary souls. I see through all flesh. Are you not all orphans, running naked? Screaming in the streets before bladed warriors? Huddling near burning huts and smoking fields as the shreds of your lives are trampled under iron shoes? Do you see this? Can you discern? I will level you all.”
And then I see.
The visions of a thousand dreamless nights
Rear and spin over the veils of this Oppressing City,
And as I sit at meat,
I see the slaughtered in the rice paddies.
You delicate and tinged with paint, weary of jewelry and attentions!
Here! Here is one who flies at you with death in her eyes!
I open my eyes and consider her.
She is homeless in a land of oppression.
I see the dread.
The war is everywhere through me.
Who is my husband, in this bloody land?
Who will pity my life, to spare me when the whole womb is so polluted?
I identify this castaway.
She serves in silence and confinement.
She suffers defilement for the sake of a promise that she does not comprehend. As I live,
The One called God is behind this.
She will yet live in her place, but now the war rages and she flees.
He said, “Their roaring drains my desire for these people.
My virtue threatens them.
They refuse me, but flatter here and curse later.
How can I approach?
I must keep ahead of them, out of sight.”
She said, “Do not leave me here, my guide!”
I grip the alter.
My slayer grips his hilt.
Eternity
Open your eyes, Little One. Do you not understand?
I know of a certain one
Learning, and finding power
Yet being still young, and a captive, such a one hesitates, and moans.
“The sign is to follow. I will be ahead of you.”
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