Disbelieve your gurus. They are no more enlightened than you. The monsters haunting their closets are the same that torture your nights. They are just as addicted to fear, just as prone to peddling tired platitudes for weary coin, just as recklessly controlling and un(w)holy.
They will gesture towards justice with one hand and grab your ass with the other. Their lips will adorn peace and equity one minute and spew fetid hatred the next. They will perform calm and virtue while secretly gnawing off their own hands with vice. They are just as afflicted as we by the virus of decline and narrow self-preservation— their ability to name it doesn’t make them immune.
Disbelieve your gurus. Placing faith and power in an external god —whether human or deity— is an old-world custom gasping its last. Divinity and Wisdom have always resided in you. Stop questing for that which was always waiting patiently at home. Stop searching and listen within.
O tender one remember who you are The world nearly succeeded making you forget Yes, you are Warrior But even the bloodied battle shero drops her shield at war’s end
Re-member your bones You do not wear them on the outside like a shell this hardness is only a shield this armor is not your flesh You are neither turtle nor tender mollusk you will not die if you step outside step out from behind
Yes, there is need for protection and yes, for fighting but remember the enemy’s tactics They drop their guard turn away their hateful eye while you devour yourself from the inside their poison is the parasite within
O tender one remember your original gifts your brilliant birth before the world taught you fear Soften your gaze before the throngs let go of your jaw in their midst melt your bracing shoulders relax your coiling center soften soften Calm, vigilant shield at hand but softened
For what use is all the fighting if when your eyelids drop one last time when the Earth turns to ash at the end there was nothing left but angry shells and fire?