Learning to die. By maja larson
No matter how high you rise
If your human, there’s always work to be done …say the Wise.
Battle grounds, bloody carnage, and gore
Even these Sad Lands offer glimpses of Divinity
If not More.
Worry not dear Souls!
Suffering and Sorrow, might for a time borrow
Your Thoughts and Feelings.
Perching upon you like Carrion Crows.
Shrug them not!
But rather make for them a nest, that you might create a Holy Space
A place of rest
A space for them to grow, and their true purpose show.
From the Depths of Hopelessness and Despair
Glitters up a divine seed.
Awaiting its master, and strong legged steed.
To Brave the gaping chaotic night
And to haul it kicking and screaming into the light.
Divided and Dual this seeded soul is born, from darkness and watered with tears
It must now fly
Above the murderous meadows, and face its fears.
To bear Witness to Illusion and Hate, that stalk the Dead and decaying vessels, of
Former masters,
Their role; Agents of Fate.
The Tree of Life, stands out on the field.
Its roots reaching past the blood and gore,
Rooted in something….more.
Going deep into the earth brushing past the place
Of one’s seeded birth.
Branches stretching far and wide, its seeds dropping
Down on to the fields of death and delusion.
Creating new life to be carried and planted by the carrion crows.
New vessels, souls who’ll know that without the dark
The light could not reveal
Its great and secret show.
When the crows of suffering and sorrow
Lift finally from your wary shoulders
Don’t forget
There is plenty of work yet!
No Matter how high ones soul might fly
The Secret is still only found
In learning to Die.
