an offering to the Godesses during a moment of respite from battle
I offer this to the two Ladies I revere, the one who chose me and the one whom I chose, the one in whose shadow I walk and the other in whose light I thrive.
I have tried my best to be a true student, to learn the lessons you have taught me, and I have come to understand something. In this world, my father and mother were taken from me before I could ever truly know them, but as a consequence I have come to know that my spirit has two mothers.
I am the arrow.
The arrow begins as life, a simple seed that grows into a tree that sends out a branch to bask in the light. Then it is taken and transformed in death into a tool to end life. The flaws are burnished out, the crown tipped with a razor’s edge of cold, biting steel. Together, unbounded life and cold death become an implement of the will of its wielder.
I see, in the arrow, a reflection of my soul. I see, in the arrow, the symbol of my spirit mothers united in purpose.
The Sorrow of the Gods has fallen to earth, and it has fallen to my companions and I to carry it. Let me fly straight and true, let me find my mark, let me fulfil my destiny, and allow the impact of my life to echo for good in the hearts of people everywhere for a thousand years.