[Metamorphosis]

ALSO LIKE. imagine trying to be in a relationship with someone knowing that there's literally 1 person that they have ever prioritized above themselves because they are such a selfish monster. and it's not even you. if revelations had been a book or comic or whatever the vanders toxic yaoi situation would be fucking catastrophic on the fandom ecosystem

“It is good for us to have trials and troubles at times, for they often remind us that we are on probation and ought not to hope in any worldly thing. It is good for us sometimes to suffer contradiction, to be misjudged by men even though we do well and mean well. These things help us to be humble and shield us from vainglory. When to all outward appearances men give us no credit, when they do not think well of us, then we are more inclined to seek God Who sees our hearts. Therefore, a man ought to root himself so firmly in God that he will not need the consolations of men.”

― Thomas à Kempis, The Imitation of Christ

Vainglory (2014)

Date: November 16, 2014 Platform: PC / iPhone / iPad / Android Developer: Super Evil Megacorp Publisher: Super Evil Megacorp Genre: MOBA Theme: Fantasy Type: Appropriation

Summary:

Vainglory is a free-to-play MOBA designed for iPad and iPhone devices. The game was unveiled at the iPhone 6/6+ announcement conference and was used as a demonstration of the new iPhone's graphical power.

The game features a free-to-play mechanic familiar to the genre. Certain characters in the game are offered for free and rotated at set times to encourage the player to buy permanent access to their favourites.

Set in Halcyon Fold each hero has been drawn to this place because of the mythical Halcyon Well. An ancient energy source brimming with unlimited power. The energy that spews fourth from this ancient tome is neither good nor evil, that choice is left to those who attempt to use it. Whether it be the hero who wishes to bring peace and tranquility to their lands, or the villain who wishes to use its immense power to have their enemies driven beneath them. All who are drawn to its powerful glow know only the strong will have an opportunity to feel it’s all encompassing shine.

In classic MOBA structure, each player has a Vain crystal they must protect. This crystal stores the energy that they have collected from the well. The bases provide a location of sanctuary where a player can recover health and shop for items without fear of attack.

Each base is then connected by a lane. The lane is a long stony path that runs along the Halcyon Fold and connects each base to each other. Players will have to transvers the lane in order to attack other player bases.

The Jungle resides below the Lane and is home to different powerful creatures. Some creatures will assist the player and others will only assist in their demise.

Source: https://www.giantbomb.com/vainglory/3030-47817/

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dp7MIjNuZXc

2023 OCTOBER 01 Sunday

"Do nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory; rather, humbly regard others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not for his own interests, but (also) everyone for those of others."

~ Philippians 2:3-4

#5530

Saint of envy, Fill your heart with jealousy Until it is vainglory.

Title: FFXIV Write 2022 - 28. Vainglory Characters: Ilberd Feare Rating: Teen Summary: Green sure is a look Notes: None

Ilberd wrestled the man to his feet, growling in his ear. "Rules are clear," he said. "No fightin', not even over pigshit wagers. Get outta here." Behind him, over the railing and down in the pit, he could hear cheers go up.

Working at the coliseum as an usher - a glorified brute, really - was galling. But it beat the past few years of field work he'd been forced to endure, subsisting on scraps. The field did not want for bodies these days, what with his countrymen fleeing a broken country trying to find a way to make a living.

He had tried his hand at resistance work for a while. Longer than he should have, if he was honest with himself. Surviving off the scraps of the land was hard, and the Garleans were too well equipped, their war machine too powerful to contend with, and so when the latest resistance cell he was a part of fractured, he left, swearing he would find a way, and on that day, return and crush them decisively.

Life was easier after that, but that was not to say it was not hard. Permanent employment was hard to find, and he could not even find a mercenary group to call home. So he shifted between craven commanders and fickle clients.

This most recent one did not promise to be much better. His stature, almost as tall as a Roegadyn, had impressed this one, and had offered to pay him good coin for a few nights standing guard over the arena. Apparently it was an important night, full of long favorites and fresh blood, and that promised a rowdier crowd.

Or something. He didn't care. He would push people around, hopefully crack a few skulls, and be allowed something more than a pittance for the next sennight for once. All he had to do was look good in a uniform and do his damned job.

He came back, having handed off the rowdy would-be troublemaker to another enforcer to handle. As he returned, he could hear the sound of the announcer's voice drift up, announcing a challenger for the night. A bull of a man, from Ala Mhigo, and at that, the crowd's cheering exploded.

Disgusting, that they saw no problem with exploiting his countrymen like this for their entertainment.

Curious, however, he found his way to the edge, and looked over, and was surprised at what he saw.

Raubahn Aldynn. An old friend, but one he had lost track of in the struggle for their country. The paint on his skin and cloth marked him as a criminal - a gladiator now fighting off a blood debt for some crime or another.

Trumped up, Ilberd was sure. The Ul'dahns were contemptible to a man. He did wonder if he had surrendered or had to be fought to be captured. Raubahn was no fighter to take lightly, Ilberd knew.

He did not stay to watch. He did have a job to do. However, as he turned away, he bowed his head for a moment, closing his eyes in a silent prayer.

However far he had fallen, at least he had not been brought so low as the fate that had found his friend.

-*-

Ilberd stalked the stands of the arena, heading to the spot where he could stand and watch. He had rather more coin coming in these days. He had capitalized on the few connections he was able to make, and was parlaying his way into better jobs. He no longer had to wait and hope for openings to stand guard here, though they were easy enough nights for good coin.

He was now a sellsword with a burgeoning reputation, so now he came here because he wanted to be here. The blood sands always promised good sport and a good show, and though he was not anywhere near well off enough to be able to get good seats, he could stand high up in the stands and watch the best the realm had to offer alongside the rest of the crowd.

He spent a few coins on a some sort of folded bread with meat and greens on the inside, and found his way to his spot. The night had already begun some time ago, and he was late, but that suited him. The newcomers and fresh meat would have been ground out by now, so now he was promised to actually see something interesting.

As he found his spot, he turned, and he watched. He had missed the beginning of this fight, but that mattered little. His old friend Raubahn was mixing it up in the pit, and he was as good as he remembered. His old friend was strong, of that there was little doubt. He was fast, and he was powerful, and he was capable. A bit sloppy in areas, but it had been some years since the war, and fighting as a gladiator was different from fighting as a soldier. Anyroad, whatever weaknesses Ilberd spied, Raubahn's opponents did not, and he was wreaking merry havoc in the arena.

Finally at last, exhausted, the last challenged yielded, and Raubahn lifted his sword into the air, and he faced...

The sultana.

Ilbered had not noticed that she was among the attendees, disinterested as he was in the general going ons of nobles for the night. It was his day off, after all. But he listened in interest as she decried the actions that had been taken against Raubahn, the unfair odds he had faced, and how he had triumphed despite that, winning a substantial purse.

And, apparently, his freedom.

Ilberd was buoyed by that. Perhaps with Raubahn at his side, he could make even more headway as a mercenary. He was having difficulty by himself, but with him, they could make a name for themselves. He could already imagine the gains they could make in his ever present goal to free Ala Mhigo.

It was with some minor annoyance, however, that he noticed that Raubahn immediately pledged his blade to this... this foreigner. This girl, barely of age, if she was at age at all.

Perhaps he had grown used to life as a pet, and wished to exchange one master for another.

Or perhaps he had a different stratagem in mind, Ilberd considered. The Sultana's influence could be useful, possibly, though Ilberd was given to understand she was more figurehead than leader.

Well.

It was of little matter.

He had come here for entertainment, but had found his appetite for it stunted. He threw away the wrappings for his food, and he went to leave the arena. Perhaps he could catch up with Raubahn in a few more years, and see what fate would do to him. In the meanwhile, Ilberd had a fate of his own to pursue, and he needed to return to it, to wrestle it to fruition.

-*-

He only heard rumors and tales about Raubahn from then on, over the years. He always meant to check in, to catch up.

To try to make plans for the morrow. For Ala Mhigo.

But every story he was told about his former friend filled him with disgust at what he had become. The man had won his freedom, but did nothing substantial with it that Ilberd could tell. He amassed money, but what use was that if he did nothing of use with it? The man was making connections, he was gaining allies, and at long last, he even rose to take one of the highest seats in Ul'dah.

And of course he chose to side with the Royalists, the weaker of the two factions in charge. Not only could he not raise a hand to help Ala Mhigo, he did not appear to even be trying to cement the alliances and gather the power he would need to be able to act in the retaking of their homeland.

No, he seemed content to play at being the pet of a Lalafell, dancing to her tune. Perhaps his time in the pits had changed him so much that he had forgot what it was to be a man, to stand on his two feet, to believe in something and fight for it for all he was worth.

Ilberd was fortunately not idle during this time, but he was not so fortunate as Raubahn. He had no wealthy and powerful patron willing to cater to his whims. Perhaps because he had no patron who he was willing to dance like a puppet for.

No, Ilberd still loved and cared for Ala Mhigo, even if Raubahn did not. And so he never did reach out, never caught up with his old friend, and was content to let him play his little game with the sultana as he wished. Ilberd was gaining in reputation and forming power, real power, and though his path would take him longer to gain the sort of glory Raubahn no doubt took for granted, when the power came to him, it would be his and his alone.

He would see Ala Mhigo free. Even if one of his oldest and formerly dearest friends had forgotten what that could even look like.

-*-

At last.

One of the lords of Ul'dah had taken notice of Ilberd, and had hired him. Not openly, but in secret, but that worked well for Ilberd. Let the little Lord Lolorito be a shadow hand if he liked.

That meant that the men and women hired on his coin would know of and be loyal to Ilberd, not him.

And that meant when the time came, he could rely on them to follow him into Ala Mhigo, as he had always intended.

And what opportunities Lolorito was providing him with. Some group he had only head rumors of before was forming a new Grand Company, and with his reputation, Ilberd was certain to be at its head. Why, even his former friendship to Raubahn would possibly work in his favor here. A word to the right person, and a letter of recommendation from the general would be sure to be coming.

He would not do that, of course, nor did he need to.

So when he approached the little lordling who thought to command him, he was all smiles and obedience, professionalism and politeness, learned through a long career of putting up with irascible clients who did not deserve the strength of his arm. It was no different with this boy, Alphinaud, and it was all the easier knowing he would not have to keep up the ruse for long.

All he had to tell Alphinaud was of his well wishes for Eorzea, which were true enough, for what was Eorzea without Ala Mhigo, if not a pale image of what greatness it could be? And to cement his position, all he had to do was point at his long career of success, and the loyalty of the men and women he had accumulated under his command over the years as a mercenary.

As he looked at himself in the mirror, he recognized that he still looked good in uniform. He would make a good face for the organization, and surely the boy realised that. And he would make an even better face for the force that he would soon be at the front of, as Lord Lolorito would have no choice but to give him his support as he reached for his true goals.

And Raubahn, well. He had forsaken Ala Mhigo.

And so it fell to men like Ilberd to make things right.

And it would be Ilberd himself who would show him what happened to those who chose vainglory over country.

FFXIVWRITE Day 28: Vainglory

Characters: Erichthonious, Praxithius(Y'zel Unsundered), U'tykha Tia, U'khuba Tia, U'rahn Nuh, U'goromuli, U'odh Nuhn Summary: Life imitates art...just not in the way we'd hope. Rating: T, for Tia Notes: cw: Casual Nudity

--The World Unsundered--

"Prrraxithius! Prrraxithius! Come down here right meow! Shit! I mean now!"

Erichthonius's voice boomed through his apartment, though with the ferocity it could have very be well been heard all through Amarout and possibly as far out as Elpis.

"Where arrre you," he repeated, face flushed as he stormed room to room, ripping his mask from his face and letting it fly in his rage, hood drawn over his features.

Yawning, Praxithius emerged from their bedroom draped in the other's robes, "Must you be so loud? Hyathlodeus had me up all night looking through new shark concepts. Come to bed?"

"Do not play cute with me right now! You've rrruined me," the warder yelled before tearing off his robes. A red set of cat ears popped up from Erichthonius's head, one twitching in anger while out from his slacks a matching tail swayed behind him. “This was neverrr be morrre than a bedrrroom indulgence! Who knows how many saw me like this before I caught my own reflection? Arrre your prrroud of what you’ve done? If Lahabrrreha hearrrs of thi-…DO NOT DARRRE LAUGH.”

Praxithius had his knuckle to his lips, biting the lower as he held back his outburst. “You sound adorable,” he teased before wrapping his arms around the other and drawing him in close, “Toni, please don’t be cross. I don’t think anyone will surmise our original intentions. There’s been talk that sharks have become tired, and so there were talks of lions and…well, you certainly wear it well. And taking a que from Anzem, it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than it is for permission when it comes to the Chief. And, for that matter, you as well, and there are… oh so many more creative ways I can beg.

Erichthonius fumed until he felt his lover’s hand upon his ear, rubbing on it gently. “I am not a canvas forrr yourrr crrreation magicks. What mannerrr of lion could this possibly rrrepresent!?”

“I didn’t say you were a lion, just inspired. Think of it, a whole people just like us, but with the structures and dignity of a lion pride. Regal, majestic, and who’s lives center around uplifting and providing for each other as a unit. Then at the head, their strongest of warrior or scholar at the head to guide them forward. I might tweak some of the vernacular as the purring seems a bit heavy handed…Still, can you just imagine how wonderful they all would be?”

“Not enough to wish theirrr likeness upon myself! Undo this nonsense!”

Praxithius lifted up on his toes, stealing a small kiss. “I am unsure why you did not do so yourself. All that is mine is yours, even my aetheric weavings. Did you perhaps wish to keep them on a moment longerrr, Toni?”

The warder huffed then kissed his lover back, ears lowered and tail gingerly lowering as he lifted the other up. “A moment longerrr…then neverrr again,” he hissed before carrying the other off to their bedroom.

--The Forgotten Springs--

“I swear on the Drake, I took on four sandworms at once! They didn’t even so much make it into the huntresses’ line arrow sights before I laid them low! I’d like to see the old man best that,” U’tykha boasted as he washed himself in the falling spring above beside his brother and cousin.

“Swear it? You’ve all but etched it in the gates for all to see,” U’khuba spat as he roughly raked a sponge down U’rhan’s back, causing the latter to flick his tail to swat at him to ease.

Legs crossed atop a wet rock as his cousin tended to him, U’rahn laughed out, “Yeah, you need a new tale cousin! Though I believe your worms have doubled since I heard them last.

“Indeed I think they have cousin,” U’khuba ageed.

“Yeah brother? What exactly have you done recently? Count your gil and deign to scold the huntresses without so much as lifting a sword yourself,” U’tykha asked, kicking up water to splash at them.

Shielding themselves, the targeted two moved away, U’khuba simply taking a step back while U’rahn slipped off his rock and into the shallow waters. Sitting up, the warrior shook out his head, flicking water everywhere before giving a strong splash towards the instigator.

Without his glasses, U’khuba squinted at the two, then stepped forward to box both their ears. “Enough. One wrong kick dicking around and someone will definitely lose all hope of being a Nuhn!”

His cousin and brother stopped immediately and cupped themselves, tail and ears perked.

“Oi! Wait! I am a Nuhn,” U’rahn protested.

This fell on deaf ears of course as the brothers faced each other. “And I’ll have you know, I have done more than balance our clan’s expenditures and provided constructive criticism to the front lines of defense. I brokered a deal with Lord Lolorito to be the Sultana’s exclusive supplier of tea. The Syndicate will brew nothing but the leaves from our lands for all their future hosts for the next five years, lining our coffers and providing for the tribe for the generations to come. My generation,” U’khuba boasted, crossing an arm over his waist as he pressed at his nose where his glasses would normally be.

“Oh. A lot good that little toad’s money will do us! You bow down to the man that nearly killed out little cousin here and then take his money so that we can have a nice big target on our backs for thieves? As if the worms weren’t enough!”

“With money, we can by sufficient walls! The huntresses’ might very well not need to lift a finger again!”

“You know guys, I felled a great dragon…” U’rahn offered.

“Ha! And grow complacent and weak! There are more dangers than the worms brother! The Drake have always been warriors and take great pride in it! Do you think anyone would want to bed a Tia that was too afraid to get his hands dirty?”

“And I fought Zenos yae Galvus…”

“I doubt they’d want a fool hardy idiot that can’t see the bigger picture and support them!”

“…And traveled to a whole different world and saved it from destruction…”

“Idiot! At least I’m not some quill pushing Tia that is too delicate to lift a sword!”

“…And then traveled to the edge of the universe and spared the world from the Final Days alongside my friends….”

“I’d like to even see you spell delicate!”

“And when I got back roughed up a few gods…”

“WE KNOW U’RAHN,” both brothers hissed before the three of them found themselves under a deluge of ice-cold water.

The men screamed then quickly bounced away from the pouring waters before being clocked in their heads by falling buckets. “Oi! Will you boys shut it! We’re all trying to relax over here,” U’goromuli huffed from above, her sisters glowering at her sides. “We’d tell you to get a yalm stick and measure already, but that won’t ever matter, now will it?”

With that, the huntresses disappeared back to their spot in the springs. Moments later, U’odh Nuhn stumbled through to use the springs himself, cocking a brow as he saw his son and two nephews parted away from another, hugging their knees with their noses just above the water. “What did you thrrree do now?”

(XIV||22-28): Vainglory.

(Continued from here.) (♪)

That two-faced hypocrisy rankled her, though she had to admit it did not surprise her. After all, Anne-Sophie wasn’t the one who nigh-singlehandedly brought down Thordan and his Knights Twelve; the Holy See feared the Warrior of Light (and Darkness, she always amended the title internally) but they did not fear her.

Perhaps that was not entirely true; the entire premise of her trial was based on their fears. As the wagon parked near the Holy Stables and two Temple Knights stepped forward to pull her out into the morning snow, she ducked her head so that they couldn't see the smile that sprung unbidden to her lips.

Neither Warrior of Light and Darkness nor Azure Dragoon that accompanied that esteemed personage, yet still a threat to their Order. She tried to hold on to that small flame of courage and conviction, placing a little cover around that candle so the winds of her guilt and self-doubt could not extinguish it.

---Previously, at the Gyshal’s Greens on the Shroud-Coerthas border:---

Despite Rae-Hann’s sound advice, Anne-Sophie hadn’t bothered to wash her hair black any longer. She’d already been caught twice, and she fully expected it to happen again. Though she had a wanderer’s heart, it seemed she did not have a fugitive’s required expertise. Somewhat ironically, the rest of her journey back to the Gyshal’s Greens was entirely peaceful. The few travellers she and Vendredi encountered on the road seemed more intent on their own business to pay hers any heed, and aside from a polite nod in greeting, they left her and her chocobo alone.

The Mystic Knight turned Vendredi to the right after a particular waymark on the highroad. Though the final stretch of their journey was through the forest itself, the pathway to their destination largely overgrown, Vendredi’s steps were light and merry. He knew what awaited him at the end of this erstwhile hunting trail carved by minor nobles that had once wintered here; a cozy stable, fresh greens from the nearby gardens, and his beloved Madame Kweh, the Comtesse of his heart.

Once Anne-Sophie settled her steed in with all three of his favorite things, she checked the postbox, retrieving the three letters addressed to her. She settled down on her favorite log; one of the only remaining signs that this garden had but recently been an overgrown ruin. She, Trineaux, and Miovont could have cleared it away with all the rest, of course, but she had taken a fancy to it, so it remained, gathering moss and mushrooms that bloomed and faded with the seasons.

Chilly rain spilled forth from the clouds, and Anne-Sophie absentmindedly surrounded the letters with a bubble of wind aether. She opened each envelope in turn, tucking them into a leather pouch on her belt after taking in the words. Once all had been read, she dismissed the bubble and lingered in thought. Gelid droplets fell at arrhythmic intervals from the pine branches above, dotting her cloak and hair with what felt closer in temperature to snow than rain.

The cold steadied her musings; she was still a daughter of Ishgard, after all, even if far from the most favored one. The first letter had been from Trineaux, assuring her that he and his adoptive parents were quite safe for the time being. That was a relief; though the Inquisitors surely knew Trineaux was her squire, it seemed her brief time within his family’s manor had gone unnoticed. He’d kept his missive brief, but there was much between the written lines; yearning to meet up with her again soon, to protect her as she was sworn to protect him. Anne-Sophie hoped she would get a moment to speak with him in person again before her trial.

Her sister Noémie had sent the second letter. This was even more brief, and peppered with the language the two of them had invented as girls. Anne-Sophie knew she would discover more information once she was inside and could hold the letter to flame; her younger sister was fond of adding additional information in specialized ink. Still, she could guess at its contents; that her family stood firm in their support, though they were doing all they could to remain above suspicion themselves these days.

The final missive was from Miovont, wherein he thanked her for her assisting himself and his ship’s crew with a family matter. In truth, she wished she could have spent more time on that endeavor; working with her fellow Knight Errant was always an adventure, and teaming up with Rinh Relanah, a scholar after her own heart, had been a delight. Her presence endangered their crew too, however; the Nixie had even been mentioned on that damnable wanted poster that far too many people had seen.

So many friends and loved ones, both old and new, united under the banner of the Mystic Knight’s vainglorious rite. Rain could not cool the shame that burned hot on her cheeks. Anne-Sophie walked over to the garden patches and tended to them for half a bell; a sort of penance, though she didn’t directly consider it as such. A compulsion born into many Ishgardians of faith, however far they strayed; to punish oneself until guilt is expunged.

Once there were no more outdoor tasks to complete, she entered the cabin, leaving a trail of mud and water behind her as she sought the showers in the basement. After she’d cleaned herself up and consumed a cup of tea, she tied her hair up and mopped up the mess that had followed in her wake. If only all the chaos she’d wrought could be so easily remedied.

(Continued here!)

Trying out this new game called t3 arena. Hope I enjoy it as much as vainglory.

???tober Day 2: Horseman

more practice ft. vainglory

Odds and ends for a sci-fi project that’s been in development hell for a bit on my end. Wanted to get my skills up to where I had more confidence in them, but figured now’s as good a time as any to try anyway.

New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/a-paeen-to-humility/

A Paeen To Humility

If life feels frustrating, there’s a reason. Frustration is a condition throughout the universe.  Even electrons are vulnerable. Because an imbalance exists between the places for them in one layer of the quantum soup and another, each time the layers interact, the quantum particles must scramble for positions like players in a game of musical chairs.  Though existence is hard for electrons, scientists suspect they can use that frustration to increase reliability when encoding digital information. In politics, frustration is a boon for antacid manufacturers. Each new poll in our divided nation sends many to the drugstore. Current tallies for the 2024 election show Donald Trump leads Joe Biden by a few percentage points, a difference that keeps Democrats awake at night worried about the return of a failed president whose agenda is political revenge.    Logic suggests the polls are wrong.  In 2020, Joe Biden defeated Trump by 7 million votes. Is it reasonable to suppose that 4 years later, these 7 million find Trump’s 91 felony charges an asset?  Should we suppose that women, even in red states like Kansas, Kentucky, Michigan, and Ohio, who have voted to enshrine abortion rights into their state constitutions will find Trump’s call for a national ban irresistible? People are more complex than the polls can reflect, it would seem.   This morning, a  friend in California surprised me with a phone call. We haven’t met for several years but we’ve stayed in touch with birthday cards and holiday messages. He opened our conversation with a few lines from my memoir,  Getting Lost to Find Home.  His speech sounded urgent, as he feared I’d missed the importance of what I’d written. Afterward, he thanked me for reminding him that friendships needed nurturing, and he resolved to do better with ours. The sweetness of his remark stuck in my throat like a  lump of hard candy. I doubted my friend could have foreseen the feeling of communion that rose within me or fathom the compliment he’d paid me by reading my words with feeling.  When our conversation ended, I returned to the blog I was writing, compulsively, the way a crow returns to a crust of bread at the side of the road once traffic has subsided.  My thoughts returned to an interview with David Brooks I’d just read. (“Q&A,” AARP  Bulletin, Nov. 23, pgs. 40-41.)    Brooks is a columnist whose political views are more conservative than mine. Many times, I’ve crushed his commentaries from my easy chair, though he never knew it.  Even so, over the years, he seemed to have mellowed, and I am gratified that in his interview, he confirmed my assessment.  I’ve learned to be more relational and humbler, he confesses. Time’s passing has a way of changing perspective.  For example, I have rid myself of the notion that humans rule the planet.  As a species, we are no more in control of the ground beneath our feet than were David Thoreau’s warring red and black ants in Walden Pond.   China’s Xi Jinping and Russia’s Vladimir Putin may imagine otherwise and hope to find a place for themselves in the pantheon of great leaders. More likely the pain and distrust they sow will grow like graveyard weeds to one day blot out their memory. Jews and Palestineans are at war again, the historical residue of tyrants and old men bent in prayer who exhort their followers to slaughter non-believers.  Do these disparate sides not see the absurdity of that call? No other mammalian slaughters its own in greater numbers than our species. That isn’t Nature’s way.  It is human vainglory. With both sides drenched in the blood of their enemy, the time has come for all to see no triumph lies in war. A dead child pulled from the rubble of a bombed building is the universal source of human tears.     We can do better.  Let there be no more learned hate. Frustration may exist in the universe, but we can choose our response.  We either yield to it or build a wall of defiance.  If we choose the latter, let imagination be the bricks of our fortress and communion its mortar. When we fill the cracks between oblivion in service to one another, we give our frail and inauspicious species primacy and establish compassion as human law throughout a deaf, dumb, and blind cosmos.        

'The Look of Despair' (God)

November 2, 2023: 'The Look of Despair' (God)...'The sorrows for the appointed feasts I will remove from you; they are a burden and a reproach to you. At that time, I will deal with all who oppress you; I will rescue the lame and gather those who have bee

The Look of Despair (God) it is in the nature of man to wreak havoc in his own life by his own choosing but he is not alone dan, the patriarch of havoc knows this well as the laws of God† are given freely so is the choice of havoc havoc is the choice of anger but he does not move alone jealousy, envy, vainglory accompany his right to move in order for humiliation to seize in order for…

View On WordPress