The madness of my oppressor is overwhelming.
He whispers when I am still,
Cries when I am peaceful,
Screams when I am free.
He whispers such lies to me.

Never content to be balanced, he is never content for anything.
I have sworn an oath of violence upon myself, and likewise myself has sworn an oath against me.

When the left hand moves the right hand condemns and when the right hand moves the left hand torments. Unto nausea and vanity neither foe may prevail for each is lord to their domain.

Is there no sure rest in the bones of a man?

He whispers and speaks for me,
I recall and correct his error,
He whispers again and maneuvers,
I defend and reclaim Sovereignty,
He has spies in every part of my life,
I have Holy men of principle.

He speaks now, and I speak now.

Principle changes,
Honor changes,
Truth changes,
Need changes,
Want changes,
And the battle changes hands.

What shall last in a man except that for which HE proclaims to be his Holy Grail?

Be it honorable, joyful, glorious, pure, right, holy, or be it treachery, war, downtrodden, rotten, perverted, and evil… none shall know but that which he finds in his own eyes. What shall a man do whose eyes see the whole of the design? Where shall he go for answers when his own life betrays him? Who shall he trust when his own heart forsakes him? What shall he know when he knows it is ALL lies, and ALL truth?

Common men hold fast to their blind faith. But what of the man who has been given differently? What of the man who sometimes discerns what cannot be seen or heard? What of the man who feels the very power of creation in his hands, and the destruction of life in his treasury? Is he arrogant? Is he vile and outrageous in the eyes of the public? And what of the man who finds this gulf between his soul, his mind, his heart, and his fellows?

Does he hide among the sheep? Does he lower himself secretly?
Does he bargain with stupidity for stealth?

Does he whisper to himself of what he should be?
Does he whisper to himself of what he must not be?
Does he whisper to himself of what he does not want?
Does he whisper to himself of what he knows he must do?

What of the man who awakens alone to his truth; the truth of his duality, the truth of his calling, the truth of his knowledge, the truth of his talents, the truth of his effect?

He whispers again, for fear of knowing,
I sleep and forget my art and myself.

He whispers again and wakens me to my own treason.
I sleep to pain and suffering.

He whispers again and I reach out to my Holy Grail.

For my challenge is that of Love.
It is my battleground and my path to the eternity.
Love is the only thing Holy to me.

Love is what I have been born without.
It was stolen many generations ago,
And it is my Holy Grail.

From this day to that I cannot find one truth that stands within me except this crusade and this purpose.

It is for this truth that he whispers always what love is when it is not, and what hate is when it is not, and what joy is when it is not, and what pain is when it is not. He whispers always to keep me from my journey. He whispers to make me stumble. He whispers to keep me in everlasting thirst and hunger.
But I have tasted the blood of the Holy! I have held the light in my heart! I have heard the crying of kindred souls reaching out for that which is rightfully theirs! I have known awakening to justice and to the truth of one moment of love.

For this in my own heart my cause is just. Withstanding all other perspectives outside of myself, it is the whispers within that are my enemy and the enemy of my ancestors.

So times come and times go. Times bring about many works, and times of little work. Times bring about great learning, and times of unlearning. Times bring about the putting on of armor, and the taking off of it. Times bring about greatness, and commonness. Times bring about solitude, and times of loving embrace from another.

Grounded in the machine of living on earth, a man of dual comprehension must always find forgiveness for himself and his choices. Forbidden to exile himself forever, he must accept the pendulum of his life and continue to mount his horse in pursuit of the Holy Grail born in him and known to him since birth.

Our offering has already been made, and it is our very selves that we brought to the Alter of Life as sacrifice. Accept always the love given to you by others, for they are your angels, your kin, and your fellow crusaders.

He may whisper and say it is not so, but we know that is not true.

Ryan o0o