Dark Clouds slither across the sky, leaving darkness and dreary people in their wake. Lower, the rain is falling, forcing the beat of the world to shift and accept its hollow pitpitpitpitpit. Above, the Moon sits in a black sky, reigning over her starlit children like a queen with no king to question her demands. The Moon shines brightly down on the weary world of bustling people too busy to look up and notice her in all of her glorious shining. Full, and round she watches her children, protecting them from those that would do them harm. Waiting and watching, she sits in the sky surrounded by the children that have departed the world and now only reflect her brilliance. Surrounded and alone, she remains vigilant in her watch. Down, down, down...below the Goddess of the Moon, far lower than the Dark Clouds and through the rain and its demanding beat....there is a child. This child lives on a gray sidewalk, bordered by an asphalt street. Surrounded and alone in an enormous city, with people passing and stepping over him day after day. He is waiting for his Mother to claim him, he believes. Waiting for Her to come take him home and say "I've missed you, my precious child." Month after year, he sits and he waits on the gray sidewalk bordered by the onyx asphalt. His bed, covered in dried gum and dirt, a place where people relieve themselves in every way and spit, on his pillow. His blanket, the warm summer breeze or a thrown away sheet. Never to be dirtied is his candle of hope, which he holds close to his heart, never to be snuffed. With each year his flame flickers and dims, the flame itself, losing hope. Never the boy. The child only knows loneliness. Only fear, uncertainty, sickness, cruelty. This child, born of the night, son of the Moon, never knows love or compassion. Only hardship and heartbreak. Faith, drives him on. Motivates him to find his next meal. Gives him energy to scavenge something to pawn for a few dollars. Faith. His best friend, dies. Faith meets her tragic end at the hand of this child's own brother. The child's brother drown poor Faith, held her under until she ceased her needless struggling and the last wisp of air floated from her paling lips. Faith had asked for it, however. She said she was so tired, so worn from the boy's constant questioning...she needed an end. A true escape. So Misery held her under, and gave her that release.
TWMA,
Sacred Secret
