When people gather in shared breath and purpose,
The Mothers whisper a quiet guidance:
Weave a story around your circle;
A tale of who you are, and what you guard,
So that those who belong may belong more deeply,
And those who arrive may feel the call to stay.

Thus the people shape meaning from memory,
Binding themselves not only to land and law,
But to the spirit of their circle: its mission, its hope, its name.
And the story grows, passed from mouth to mind,
Woven into rituals, carved into stone,
Sung by those who may never see the ending.

From this weaving, attachment is born:
Emotional, spiritual, physical.
The deeper the story, the stronger the bond.
And this, too, is sacred.

But the Mothers see both light and shadow in this thread.
For love of a circle may stir courage,
But may also swell beyond its shape,
Claiming what cannot be tended, naming what should not be bound.

So the Mothers bless those who walk the middle path,
Who guard their circle with devotion,
Yet know when to let its edges remain soft.
For they hold the thread without strangling the weave,
And in their care, the world becomes more whole.

Explanation

When people live in a community, the Mothers quietly guide them to tell stories about who they are and what they care for. These stories help members and newcomers feel connected and want to continue the community’s mission, even through hardship or after death. Over time, people grow emotionally, spiritually, and physically attached to their community. The stronger the stories, the deeper the bond. This is both helpful and risky. It can inspire people to protect what matters, but also push them to claim more than they should. The Mothers bless those who can love their community while knowing its limits.