Psychic Faith

When we fall, what brings us back up? In dark times, that elusive ray of light sometimes blossoms within our mortal hearts to lend us some hope and restore our fighting spirit. Faith. Yet another word I used to mock, alongside it's cousins Love and Hope. *shakes head* The folly of youth. I nearly lost my only passport to safety tonight, and for a few breathless hours, I thought I would live again in constant fear. Deep in my heart, I knew where my protections lay. Instinct guided my steps, and I found it lying on the floor, glinting on the dirt and grass. There were a few other things that happened too, but as I walked home with my old pendant around my neck and the silver symbol in my pocket, the wind picked up and ruffled my hair. I stopped for a second, and right there under the grove of trees, I cried. I don't expect total comprehension when I type these things on my blog; for me, they express what I feel and say when in reality my physical self is cold and silent. But look closer behind the illusions I weave, look into my eyes and you will see a glimmer of what I put up on this public blog. I cried for those who exist without hope, without love, without faith. She visited me in my dreams again, and this time, before she killed me, I spoke to her. I can't quite remember the exact words, but I said something about her child. And she started to weep, tears of blood that stained her stark white gown. This dream haunts me more than my experiences and past dreams, because I know now, her concern for her child is real. And if I, as a mortal man, can help to ease her pain, then I vow that I will do so to the best of my ability. I cannot turn my back on a soul in pain, how can anyone? It is unthinkable. When you see a fellow creature in pain, suffering, I think anyone's first instinct would be to help. Gender, race, colour, size...all the boundaries that we draw to define social and racial differences melt away because in the end, we are still fellow human beings. And sometimes, we all need help, regardless of who we are or what we are capable of. These thoughts flew through my mind at the speed of light, tumbling and crashing into one another, as I stood at midnight under the whispering trees. Will she hurt me? Will her sisters harm me, and my friends as they did that night? It still pains me to learn that she used me to hurt my friends on the night I nearly died. Can I help her? Will she allow me to talk to her? The leaves rustled softly as these thoughts flitted through my mind, and as I walked through the dark and empty carpark, the wind grew stronger. Tonight, I sit yet again in tears, afraid to sleep, yet ashamed at my reluctance to right this wrong on my own. Am I incapable of fighting my own battles? Yet I know this is no longer a battle. It is not my life she seeks, it is redemption. I am no expert on the ways of the world, and I don't know if she will ever be granted the peace she has tried so desperately to wring out of me. I'm just a 19 year old kid. But the image of the red tears she shed sticks in my mind. And it inspires faith in me, faith that I can help her, even if I am just a young kid. Everyone deserves a shot at salvation, and her concern for her child is a mother's pain searing her soul. *shakes head* I don't know if anyone else will understand my need to help her, but I must. No one deserves that kind of torment, and I wish to talk to her of faith, of hope, of love...all the things that every man, woman and child should have to be whole.
Light.