I am afraid for you.
Your fear is dispersed, a slowly growing swarm of frantic butterflies.
It sparkles, a million different sparks are igniting and going out, extinguishing themselves minute by minute, second by second. And my panic doesn’t help.
Useless in this fear, we are. The relentless, we are, but flying to high. We have lost love for the ground, its touch we can not even speak of. The fear, the rebellion, and the dissatisfaction combined have brought us to these crossroads.
We must think, if thinking is what we love. But we must think better, our minds should be clearer, and our bodies we should treat as carefully as we can.
As guests. We must change.
We must mature, and stop being willfully blind. Your fear scares me, because I am still young.
Spirit of Tara 