Love

my sonWhen a man turns away from the kind smile of a woman, he will never be the same. Sometime, maybe when he tries to sleep, she returns. She can stir his heart even then…

Want to know what a woman is? A woman is a kind and gentle flower, drops of rain on her petals, beauty of untold stories. Or, she can be like the Lioness, who cannot stop herself if she must kill, she goes mad, until there is nothing left of her enemy…. nothing… it is true…

We were dropped off here once, by some sad yet benevolent race, yes, they just left us here. Maybe they thought they were saving us…. But other spirits flew wild above, like black wraiths in the night, and they gathered like an army for their leader, and swore to enjoy our suffering and torment forever…

Others turned the innocent ones into slaves, gave them graven images, fed them poisons and created fake wars to watch the bloodshed… forced them to be slaves for a governing Elite, a hybrid race of monsters, not human anymore…

Women were killed, abused, neglected, babies were left hungry with disease, innocent creatures of Our Divine Creator suffered endless ages of suffering, being broken and lost forever from their true destiny, from their true nature…  Men turned against man, fear was fed to them like a furious screaming demon, and darkness fell upon them all….  and the women cried rivers of tears, but no one cared anymore…

It was hell on Earth and the last living Kind Ones knew the end was in sight. Dragonfly machines louder than devil monsters flew through the sky and the wild horses of the peoples fled for their lives, and many were left dead and dying as the roaring machines continued after the others… and the innocents cried…

One small child in Pakistan stood up and boldly defended her right to know, to learn, to have an education, Malala, and a child slave without mind nor heart, guided by some unnamed fear, raised a weapon to her head and fired.

Maybe there is no saving it now. Maybe it is past the point of no return. But my heart is like Arwen’s. Like the Elven Clans of old. There is a very old book coming to my door, and I wait each day, patiently, looking for the post truck to bring it from across a huge ocean.  It was written in 1849 by a man of the Kymry people of Wales. It is a first edition, with the original genuine clip of the obit where the young author, a beloved hero of their people, died far too young.  This is his book.  And for some unknown reason, I have found it….

It tells all their stories. In their language, and then Thomas adds in explanation and lends insight of those times. We can’t always just look at ourselves. Sometimes it is very important to try to remember. To accept whatever gifts inexplicably come our way, and even if we don’t understand, we know they are sacred. Sacred in a world long forgotten and its people in ruin…

Find your people. Find your love and your passion. Do not stop till you do. Do not be cavalier anymore. That time is long past. Stand up. Be ready to face it all with the bravery that runs in our blood from our warrior grandparents…

The true Kind Ones, the Humans left here so so many centuries ago, alone, to fend for themselves, they are few now. Our beautiful children must not forget us. They must not forget. Because everything that was ever done before, was for them, now. On the holy Sabbath, tonite, I send courage and great love to all children of the Earth, we must be strong, and know what is worth fighting for. I can tell you what will save us. We’ve just lost sight of it. Love. Only love.

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