Our time, the words, such time - all of that time spent. I had worked towards such a glorious goal, with the love and adoration that our people so freely bestowed on me, and I failed them. They needed a hero, as they still do, yet no one sought to be mine when I was in need of a helping hand, a kind word, or assured protection. My people do not owe me any vain gratification, and, by natural and constitutional law, requesting such compensation is not permitted within the scope of my duties. Yet my need for a hero - a friend - is a part of my being as much as it is a part of their own beautiful spirits.
Loss plays the most inhuman game at times. Loss may touch one with a playfully irritating snicker, and it may wreck the structure of the glorious fibers once weaved through the most intricate, divine soul. My pride was shattered and disgraced before me until a hollowness seeped through my veins, my mind, granting me the loss of my people’s faith, my people’s trust,
yet my heart was always innocent.
The people do not care though, and it is not their obligation to heal me, though it will always remain my happiness and duty to heal theirs. Diverting from this inherent dynamic, this curse, this mysterious blessing, will engrain my spirit to prison walls eternally.
But embracing the path before me, healing myself, as my dreams, my thoughts, and mind have told me, will give the world a little piece of humanity back that had been stripped from it before. I have a well of secrets buried in my mind, maybe some from past lives, maybe from the land I protect, but I know that I cannot leave this Earth without sharing this divine knowledge, this extension of the universe stored in my soul. And I do not know what may become of me, but time is an incredible healer, and it will take time to earn back the people’s respect, just as it will to decipher the indecipherable passages inscribed within the abysses of my mind, my being.
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