​The reflection of the mirror, seems to show, the face of a women shattered by her adventure. Written in worn lines that show age in a face, once so beautiful as to charm.  We are but vessels to a higher plane, that wash and list up on the one wane of time. 

It is not for us to know our destiny. Nor yet to hamper nor hinder such an adventure. For an adventure is surely how we must see life. We must shy not from the pain of life, nor from the enjoyment it’s treasure holds. Ignorance of even the smallest truth, is a crime against you. 

The eyes that have seen the lengths humans will go to to seek pleasure,  weep with joy to see the truth of that encounter. And we in our infancy of life, rejoice upon such a sight. 

The pain we can inflict with words of deeds, with choices made for our own selfish or misguided reasons, can be greater than any scalpal, even in an angry hand. And this year away from the hollow has taught me so very much about trust, that words do not do justice to the lessons. Human nature it seems is ironic in its humour. And those choices we make are made for us by those who govern the microscopic lives we lead. 
Tears, salty and true, remind us of our suffering. Joy and laughter remind us of our humanity. Loss and grief remind us of our fragile existence on this blue green marble we call home. And yet the paradox of the truth in those words is astounding. For while we as temporal beings find refuge in love, and disgust at our fellow man in his or her attempts to capture a perfect moment. We as a race condone such barbaric actions in the name of diplomacy.
I tolerate fools, to a point, finding pity more a bedfellow than hatred. With few marked exceptions. Being from Northern Ireland, you could be forgiven in thinking my disgust at how the British army treats our finest citizens, and yet today I was in the company of ex soldiers,  who had patroled and participated in some of what my kin would call atrocities.  Yet when you see, as I do, that choices are not real.  Then you cannot be blamed for others choices, anymore than you can be blamed for the rising of the moon.
When we mature to adult humans, we are encased in our learned socially engineered way of thinking.  How society wants us to think about a skin colour or a gender, or act.  How society dictates to us or feelings our emotions like drones we play our parts in other people’s journeys.  Scorn healed upon a sect for their adventure does not fit or sit well with the collective society. Hatred for how another us treated because it does not fit into the pigeon hole some one else created for it.
The very nature of the journey we face each day, to struggle or to drift through life, to find love, to find partners to share the road with, to adherence to laws and rules laid out for “our”well being, is in direct conflict with the true nature of our race. Designed as our  playground to learn the lessons to graduate from the tour of life. To a higher plane. We must overcome these laws, this society, these socially engineered myths that keep us in our place. 

Those words, you read, may be to some the ancillary and antipathy of what you think a slave should say. Considering that slavery is based upon the fire to serve, or indeed the need to obey to survive. But the truth of this is obvious to those that can see the truth of course. We are human sheep. Wrapped in our security of warm blankets. 

Older eyes see these discrepancies. In a face battered and bruised by life. And with the wisdom of knowing a visions truth, they smile at the youthful boistrous nothions that are given as excuses for people’s activities. Knowing, as I do that most will overlook the truth of my words to pick and find offence at the core of this text.  And yet,  the heart is warmed to know, that a very few of you, that read these words, will understand. 

In acceptance of these massive challenges to modern concepts,  the whole adventure, becomes a pleasure to behold. As such it has been, and will remain to be, humbled by my owner in Her wisdom.  And honoured to remain Rose Brightflame™ 

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