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A certain darkness has crossed my world.
When twin genders, striving in silence of the sound, against each other, are not enough,
And a third symbol is carved from the Roman pantheon, into our realm of the present
I stand and lose my bearings, feeling the calling of the future that might be,
My ego bloats, but the fear of the present holds me anchored.
"I want change." I softly intone.
I hear my voice from ten years past. Then fifteen. A lad in high school, just graduating, wanting to be a fox--and a child spurned in elementary wanting to be a wolf--both speaking with the Me of today, in harmony.
The High Priestess in me speaks--
"This will not end well."
Yet I strive on, knowing that I will live until I die, and endure torment of a variety of flavors, regardless of the calculus of what I do and why. So it it better that I live to learn, and make mistakes, than to hide from my own fearful prophecies.
The Judgement simply awaits, as it always does, and always will. I cannot fear it.
I will change.