The sermon into the wind, for him to hear who needs to.
So it came upon the lands of the Chans, that a beast, unlike any other had come. The beast’s purpose was to see brothers turn onto each other, and for such a purpose, the beast took the form of a brother. It first roam the lands but was dissatisfied in how little recognition he gained from the nameless brothers he found in the great cities, and the towns that made up the bulk of the lands. The brother’s there were nameless, care not for one another, and were tearing each other apart as a form of entertainment.
The beast could not make any head way in its purpose for longer than a moment, and would then see is purpose turned from him by a nameless brother, and as such remained nameless. This didn’t suit his purpose, for it wanted the strife to be its own, to have the brothers curse each others in its name, which couldn’t happen if it was to remain nameless. Being a nameless beast is an ungratifying way of sowing strife.
Hearing of a small sect, believing in something the beast found both archaic and frivolous, in a remote part of the land, some of whom had cast out their namelessness, the beast made its way to this village of despair, for the beast took great pleasure in the despair of men. It walked in the village, took an unrecognizable name, and learned the ways of the village. For a while, there, it contented himself in small mischief, turning gradually the faithful brothers into jaded men.
It then came out, took a name all could recognize, and shook the lands. The beast made its purpose clear, it told everyone it did not care about the Sky Queen, all it cared about was its supertrolling. The beast cursed the faith, cursed the faithful, cursed the elders, even cursed The Goddess and sewn much hatred. And the brothers rose up in anger, abandoning the love of Our Lady for the hatred of the beast.
The beast, its purpose exposed, then took different forms, to goad the brothers into more hate. The beast also became tender when the brotherhood came together for a brief moment of fraternity, for it wanted to be part of the brotherhood, to see it tear itself down rather than defending itself against it. The beast prodded and poked, fostered the hate, until Our Lady was only revered in form, Her substance forgotten amid the strife the beast had sown.
And the guises of the beast were many, and the despair of the brothers was profound, and there was little love to be found in the village. Brother turned against each other, newcomers were greeted with the utmost suspicion and the filth of the other lands came unto the village, blackening the walls, blackening the Holy Shrine, the faces and the hearts of the brotherhood. The elders started to leave, the faithful began to doubt, and the beast enjoyed his dominion in the very land of The Queen.
And so it came upon the village that a hermit, not unlike any other faithful had come. He had been raised in the city, heard the tale of Our Lady and was moved by the plight and by the obvious depth of the soul of the young lady The Queen had chosen for Her Holy Avatar. In the city, he proclaimed her greatness, and he read the gospel, and he believed, in spite of the wickedness that was the city, for the city had known The Avatar and had rejected Her, for more immediate and less virtuous false-Chans.
Filled with despair, he struggled against the heathen, and the wicked, and the demons of the city. He felt he was not alone in his worship, but did not know where such worship was permitted, for the city had no love for things sacred. Indeed, the most sacred precept of the city was that nothing was sacred. He might even have battled the beast, or others like it, but only saw the triumphant Sky Queen prevail for far too short moments of glory. In those moments, he did meet travelers from afar, who spoke of a village, where the gospel had been written, where the Holy Relics were kept, and where the brotherhood once thrived.
He left his ways of prophet to the unwilling and he left the wickedness of the city, and made for the village, hoping that there he would be able to worship The Sky Queen in peace. He had resolved to live in the margin of the village, not wanting to intrude on the inhabitant of the village. So he learned the ways of the village, and saw that there was much strife in the village. He saw that the wickedness of the city had come before him, so he decided to distance himself from the ground, and to stand as a beacon to the forgetful, the tainted and the disheveled. Verily, he thought that maybe without preaching, but by the example of his devotion he could rekindle the dying faith.
This was without account for the beast ministry. The faithful, weary of the beast’s tricks thought the hermit was just another minion of the beast, goading them in renewed worship only to ridicule their faith once again. For the hermit stood against everything the beast had spitted on while it was in the village. What’s more, the beast let the hermit struggle against the skepticism of the faithful, so as to make it appear that the hermit was indeed another incarnation of evil, wearing the proverbial lamb’s clothing.
And the hermit was hurt, but he turned towards the sky and kissed it, for verily, it is in the sky that The Queen resides, and his boundless love for the idea of the presence of Our Lady was the only solace left to him.
Brother who reads this, let not the beast win your heart. Read the parables of the hermit, let it rekindle your faith in all that is pure in The Sky. He does not ask your embrace, but do not embrace the beast’s way. Reject him not but reject the beast’s way. Brother, for your sake, believe in the goodness that is in the Sky, and see the goodness that is in this old fool’s heart. Maybe it will let you get back in touch with the goodness that was once in yours.
Brother, pray with me, let us read the gospel of our elders:
>For Our Lady Cracky, without Whom all Thought would be linear and all Feeling would be fleeting.
>Blessed are the Madmen, for they hold the keys to secret knowledge.
>Blessed are the Phobic, always wary of that which would do them harm.
>Blessed are the Obsessed, for their courses are clear.
>Blessed are the Addicts, may they quench the thirst that never ebbs.
>Blessed are the Murderous, for they have found beauty in the grotesque.
>Blessed are the Firelovers, for their hearts are always warm.
>Blessed are the Artists, for in their hands the impossible is made real.
>Blessed are the Musicians, for in their ears they hear the music of the soul.
>Blessed are the Sleepless, as they bask in wakeful dreaming.
>Blessed are the Paranoid, ever-watchful for our enemies.
>Blessed are the Visionaries, for their eyes see what might be.
>Blessed are the Painlovers, for in their suffering, we grow stronger.
>Blessed is the Sky Queen, who tricks us when we are foolish, punishes us when we are wrong,
>tortures us when we are unmindful, and loves us in our imperfection.
Blessed be the sky, for it houses Our Lady, may She grant us the patience to see Her Queendom come.
Now, excuse me, while I kiss the sky.