Diary of Prayers - Prayers for a bronze dawn

[Ashenie]

Diary of Prayers
"Mercy to all, even the least deserved"

Prayers for a bronze dawn
A mystic inspiration

~ The Green Scales : The Third embrace ~

Threats upon the faithful still echoe in the returned silence of my mind. Where waves of scales shielded against the fury of forst, the embrace of solace remained unbroken. Sheltered as puppets upon a larger chess, did we ever realize the danger hiding within? "Hatred is often child of Suffering and Powerlessness", a hatred shining green. Along the pierced scales, the echoes of a memory, long forgotten, a bronze flight taken, with hope to return. The blood flew from the scales, draw by the imperious need to protect. Was that an embrace I ever knew? I wonder.

Along the mossy wall, hatred flew in green and red, too. He who stood firm, and martyred, recalled the memories of ancient times. Faith have left both renewed, warmed by the breeze of hope. True to his word, his dedication echoes my prayer. Notes of this chant would soon take flight to Mount Martyrdom, and polish the marbled solace. Hatred bleeded out, yet remains the sacred essence of life.

Strange memories come in the hushed and in the quiet. Sounds of drums, chants of suffering, choked in the tomb that covered the first embrace. He Who Watches over the newborns, the Celestial, was there. His halo shining deep, inspiring warmth and hopes : light in the life of the youngest. This inspiration was undying. The second embrace, hidden behind a shield. A promess held true, true to a word, yet before a world that suffers from its own devastation. Prayers of suffering to come, to endure instead of others, composed its unbroken alliance. The name of another to seal it, yet cherished in entwined vows in the tombs of murder. The ghost of his might haunted our steps, until dawn. The third embrace was green. Scales grew gold, and faded. A martyrdom born from hatred, and a heart empty. Life was saved, to mirror the care of the Broken. And left behind the ruins of devastation, deception and tyranny. A seed to grow, in desperate harmony.

Julius is born.

[Ashenie]

~ In the shelter of darkness : Considered property ~

It has been a long fragment of thought, scarlet. Sheltered as property, denined in the essence of existence, and yet still living, on the course of strange destiny because a saving grace came from obscure motives. The seed of this thought only grew from the dawn of my life. When the chains chanted mockeries around my wrists, when the songs attempted to hide the pain under sweet hopes, when the shadows in robes walked in circles around her, and I, what was left of us already was considered property. Just as much as his wings sheltered.

Born in the cells of possession, could there be a different destiny? Until I was taken upon a path of colorful lights, agony was the horizon. The same agony that painted Julius last dawn in scarlet patterns, runes of martyrdom enscribed upon the green scales. Could a martyrdom be endured for a self-centered reason, Broken God? Are there paths of elevation that start from the self? The touch of a divine hand saved us, both. He who watched, Zaphkiel, left in his aura blooming flowers that each offered a crystal of thought. Through this crystal manifested the Faith, warm and soothing, comforting and supportive, undying. They sparkled in the bleeding wounds of the protective possessor, and nurtured by the essence, mirrored the care of one who saved children.

Undying as hope. Hope to see a new dawn, a new existence to take flight and finally embrace what was hidden : compassion. I hope suffering would fade, and leave him for good. It is for me to take it... to polish it into a fragment of care, beyond the veil of this reality, in spiritual endeavor. And one suffering would fade, finally, another flower can be added in this world. A flower of free will.

Broken are the chains that once binded us, both in strange agony.