Oracle

Her pain is her beauty.
She is a function of her vision.

I am beyond thrilled to announce that my dear, devoted Oracle has found a new home! In tribute, here are some of my thoughts for her:

This dear woman has a vision, clear as a bright summer day. It is so clear it sears her mind and trains her thoughts toward it, even those twisted reflections that surface in dreams. She does not know if she will achieve her goal but that does not deter her from tirelessly pursuing it.

Society turns down the corners of its mouth with no gentile subtlety but instead with a raging and vulgar shout: “Let lie where they are born these errant thoughts that cause dissatisfaction with complacency!”

Her peers fall by the wayside as she digs deeper into her vision. Slowly, out of the grain, once bleached into a bland white by the scouring of the cloned mentality of the pack she once called home, emerge like-minded souls. A tender hand and open mind polish and smooth the splinters, nourish and value the striations ingrained in the wood. Suddenly one ring becomes a beauty under the mahogany tone of love, another is a story of a lost limb under the fire of cherry, a third still becomes a quiet river of millennia under the diligent hand applying a delicate blonde stain.

As she seeks her calling others witness and find within themselves a similar courage. Their pack is small and nebulous: their commonality is their gift of vision.

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