The memory is clear, the time distant.
Voices fade as my vision dims.
Precious moment are sealed away for one last look.
I am prepared.
It was a time of great upheaval and sacrifice. We lost our way, but found home through blood, toil and tears. And to reclaim what was rightfully ours was a declaration of war. Of battle we won and lost. Of those fallen, and the Angels of Divine Mercy that guided the wounded to heaven.
When the sun scorched the satellites and earth, food became scarce, water precious. The neos thought after forced starvation we would capitulate. Even their provisions were mixed with poison.
But of the miles trodden, the lead spilled, it was her, by faith or providence that assured victory.
He was but a vessel for her intention. And yet, it was his strategy and force of will which allowed the partisans to victory. Always burdened by its cause and tragically, the burden was never lifted.
To hear her speak, but it wasn't in words. Pure thought that caressed your consciousness. Like a soft summer breeze. It was like a lover whispering to you.
We smashed through armies like a scythe through wheat. We advanced like a fire through straw. Napoleon would be proud.
