In the kingdom of the blind

From the minds I respect the most, too many times I've heard these words: I'm wasting my time. Stagnating, directionless.

Out of love and reverence to them, I've doubted my path, made light of my constraints, and looked to justify.

Oh, how hath my inland empire fallen! How could I—Proclaiming to walk an invisible path—Could be so BLIND as to seek for others to approve of that which they cannot see?

Beloved, wise, family. You who've watched me as my fire waned, and you who gifted me wax and lacquer to polish a scabbard I've yet to earn. In my love for you I must rekindle my embers and stoke them asparkle. For you I'll light and great pyre and bear a great torch, so that you may chance a glimpse:

Witness! Witness this path I walk! By my grace it is paved, of my grace it is carved. I cherishly invite that you walk with me. But hold my hand until you know to trace the path.

The one-eyed queen

This svelte and spindly figure patters through the world, her step light and torrential. Her footfall— a gentle drizzle that aims to cover the earth. She knows the path, but not how to walk it. She knows her aim, but not her destination.

In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed girl is queen, but all her charges see still— see different. She needs their voices, and their sharpened ears— but only she has in her eyes, her path— only she can trace. She must bear the great torch, she must lead with drawn steel. Her sight of the path, her duty— To abandon these would mean betraying her domain.

In time, the blind may gain sense for the path underfoot.

But they'll never navigate by the stars.

Journey's end

You walk a blasted path, my queen. Stretches of it you've walked alone, and stretches of it you may walk alone still. O' the faith you demand of all who walk by you— My greedy and fanciful queen... Quiver not! And bend not your visions to reason! The only eye's sight must never dim. The faith you demand is a blessing you give. Grant it unto us with heart lighter than a feather. Your loyal seek only assurance and edict— avail yourself of their fear of the dark.

Nothing lies at the end of this journey, yet still we march so that it ends in a worthy place. Our following is fickle and our conviction fickle. We tremble from this futility as we plow our paths. Hear our pleas, O' queen of mercy, and lead us with your vision firm! Herd us, that unrelenting pyre towers in your eye eternal—Gentle, timid—lay claim upon each flower by which you perch. Our aid we'll bestow— sought or unsought. Do not refuse us, for our hands you cannot stay. Direct us, O' radiance, so that we may guide you. Route us in wisdom and we'll keep you on trek.

Stay true to the light— eye of glass, eye of fire. From the kingdom of the blind to kingdom come.