The Hidden Truth
Ancient faiths saw only part of the divine; the fuller harmony awaits revelation.
In the dawn of seeking, mortals reached for the divine,And their eyes, bound to form, beheld only the hand that shaped them.They called the Shaper god, the sole architect of all,Unseeing the Quickener’s pulse, deaf to the Mothers’ song.
The Shaper set its marks upon the world: commandments carved in restraint,Edges to temper the wild will of humankind,Yet no voice rose to guide them forward, no whisper of what must be.
Yet the Mothers, watching, wove their counsel into the wind,Soft urgings in the heart, quiet stirrings in the soul:To mend, to change, to build, to leave the world made whole.
Thus, divine law is not one voice, but threefold harmony:The Shaper’s bounds, the Quickener’s motion, the Mothers’ guiding breath.The faiths of old glimpsed but a shadow of truth;Not false, but half-lit, awaiting the fuller dawn.