What is it like to be the ocean? Pulled forever towards the moon. They cannot meet. And yet, how precious the shared light that binds them still. Religion is a light like that, connecting us across the page. The words the same. The texts unbroken. Sweet on my lips, and yours, a claim. I dance across these hallowed pages; you meet me there, and we begin a duel of words and thoughts and fire with figures long dead, grand and grim. It's in the text that I will find you, my tradition just as yours. In sacred folios of vellum I dissolve into the words. Our prayers in an ancient tongue, seraphim carry them to God. Bright fire bears your words and mine to the exalted Holy One. I hear my name upon the wind; you turn for there is yours as well. Devoted to a God who listens, and whose love we can't dispel.
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