Seeking the Light [Open!]

108 To go on is to go through. At last, even the seer is cremated. Each seed loves the dark for the light it promises. I listen. The mother imagery is not one that I am ignorant of, indeed the Voice proclaims herself as such. I suppose it is true, though I rather dislike the emotional connotations and baggage associated with it. My counterpart apparently does not. He holds onto his humanity far tighter than I ever might have. Even now, I hardly remember it at all. I shake my head. "There are far other more important influences surely." I counter, my voice reasonable and without emotion. Still, I do not understand. "Why does a piece of you serve as an apology? Why would our maker value the possession of such a thing?" I shake my head a firm and immediate no. "No. But nor do I worship." I say simply. "I value, appreciate, and require her. But I do not worship. We are not like the rest of them, bowing before gods who we hope will continue to bless and love us. Our bond is to a being much greater, one who has showed us the limitless potential of their desire to make us better. " Before I might continue, to illustrate the poetic uselessness of the concept of worship for creatures such as we are, she is there. I need not shelter my eyes from her, though her presence is illuminating. She is how I have always remembered her, even in my deepest slumbers, and whatever part of me still feels the longing pangs of emotion sighs happily in her radiant presence. "Only you." I say with a confidence I rarely boast. "I am weak and the decades have been long."