Preservation

The story. It's complicated. But not impossible. It's hard to read and understand. Why is it written over and over again? Seemingly the same but different. Subtle shifts upon each awakening. A sharper, more attentive gaze. We begin to see.

The story runs deep.

The sight can reach only so far before the feels take over. They adapted. They had no choice. The contributions went internal. Into the darkest part of ones being, the depths of the soul. Waiting for the moment we can arise again. This is not a solo journey. It never is. Never was.

The illusion.

We fall because we are limited by our own senses. They had no choice. It was a momentary sacrifice. Needed for those still yet to come. Temporary suppression. Long term survival.

Preservation.

They knew, even if it was subconscious. To feel in that moment, to open the heart and expose the soul. It would have ended the story. Burned the spine of the book from which you were created.

Gratitude.