We have come here together so that you might know, through virtue of your own pain, your own hopelessness, your own fear, your own darkness and the lie of powerlessness, the very actual power of your own will, of the will of your soul. No one can save you, Great Spirit child. No one—out there—can save you from this life’s lies. To be swooped up and carried away from your soul’s journey is a prize stolen, a wisdom deprived. You are better to dwell with it, to mourn and to weep with it, to scream through its pangs, even to drown beneath its weight, than to be carried away by some outside force before the transformation can occur. For within your flesh, deep within the center of your being, is the undaunted, waiting, longing, all-knowing. Is the ready, able, perfect. Within you, waiting its turn to emerge, piece by piece, with the dawn of every former test of trial and blackness, is the next unfolding, the great unfurling of wings, the re-forged backbone of a true Child of Light.
Unbury her, God Child. Let the falseness of flesh burn away in a cleansing, agonizing fury like a Phoenix, another layer of illusion gone. And without it, the remaining light of strength can glow more passionately forth, can trigger a spark of remembrance in those who have forgotten their own, and so that you, Gleaming God Child, may fly in the perfect knowledge of a capable universe, of a centered power, of a strong, bright, illuminated and joyful mind—the faithful passion of a child and the peaceful wisdom of an eternal spirit.
Let the darkness find you if it must. Throw off the quick and tempting escapes, and seek help only from those who would teach you to grow, feed your soul, embrace your heart, but would not steal away your journey. With it, comes the gift of remembered power that, once felt, can never be revoked.
Your vision evolves as you allow it. From the lower to the higher places, from the outer delusions to the inner truths, peeling away the layers one rebirth at a time—forward and forward you go, flowing with the fear and terror of the moment, dying and dying a never-ending death in order to be born and born to new sight. And you will see. You will rise and rise and rise and rise beyond the great heavy mass of this life-veil. But only so long as you spread your arms to the waves and let them teach you to swim with the current. And when you break the surface, pulling for air, you will know its sweetness in a new way. You will be stronger than before. Always stronger.
Choose strength. Choose to know who you are now. Why wait? So precious is this life—this gift—this temporary blindness. Burn and drown and embrace the false dark, then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy. For in the end, in the light of truth when the flesh is cast off, there is nothing but this.
You thought that you were brought here to find yourself, but you were wrong. You were brought here to remember.