Public Sermons of Mari Blacke

[Mari]

A sermon delivered on the steps of the Water Temple some weeks past, sponsored by the Sultan through the council

By the grace of My Lady Between the Stars I am a guide to those who seek. Though I do not burn, I am Her torch. Though I cast no light, I illumine the way. I am Mari Blacke, Gellemede.

Greetings, dreamers. You who gaze in wonder and fear at the world conjured about you. Though it is harsh, you struggle. Though it would test you, you endure. You strain against the dream- and know that it is so that we walk in a dream. Nothing here is real.

...yet.

The dream cannot survive without its dreamer, but how does a dream die? The waking have left that behind and bear no witness. What psychopomps await the vestiges that remain? The sands howl, the ash burns, walls crumble. Around us it withers.

It is said that the Disc was a dream, once. The land dies. But -you- endure! -You- struggle! The dream awaits a new dreamer to make it Real again. A path forward, whispered by my Lady. Know this!-

The stars do not shine but -you- do.

The moon does not glow but -you- do.

The sun does not blaze, but -you- do.

This is the magic of the Dream. This is -your- magic. The skies are dark if not for the light -you- cast. The Moon casts no ray but, resplendent, you reflect Her glory.

There is a path forward. For we live in the moment. And to live in the perfect moment, is to live perfectly. Eternally. The ascendant immanent. It is through the pursuit of this moment the Dream can be made forever real. Affixed. Triumph unshackled beyond consequence, beyond judgement, beyond loss. The illusions of the Dream abjured and its fabric made True. Made Real.

You will GLEAM like the stars!

You will WAX like the Moon!

You will BURN like the Sun!

For an ETERNAL instant you will SHINE eternally in your SHINING world!

They say the stars are the domain of Izdu and it may be so. They say that the Moon is the domain of Kula and it may be so. It is in the hidden places between, though, that My Lady resides. The darkness between the stars yawns wide and, at times, it smiles. She smiles.

What prayers you have to offer, she will take. Your fears you offer, She will take. Your doubts you offer, She will take. The night is vast all that holds you back from your moment might be collected and hidden away from the dream within. Through her unlit paths, I guide you. The vessel you empty, She will fill. The cup, upturned, becomes Her temple.

I am Mari Blacke. I am Her torch. Take my words in hand and walk between the stars.

[Mari]

A sermon delivered in the plaza of the Well on the subject of loss, in the wake of deadly days

My Lady dwells in absence.

The hardships of the Dream forge bonds, this is undeniable. And we take these others into us their drive and ambition stoking our own. As the Moon though it does not shine, we reflect their glory even as we reflect Her glory in our striving. Our ambition.

In the wake of loss, we feel their absence within us. Holes left in our tapestry. There is power in this, for wisdom comes extremis. Emptiness created by the extreme. Beyond grief, beyond joy, beyond reason.

That which is empty, Gellema shall fill.

Hear Her from the empty places and welcome Her there. The chalice, upturned, becomes Her temple and in communion with the divine- wisdom.

Hear Gellema's call to drive, to achieve, to strive, to reach, to grow. Cast aside that which must be cast.

Do not let the memories of the past burden you. Seize that which fired you of them and make it of the moment. Of the now.  A great gulf yawns between the moment and the past.

If you must fall into it, dive deep and drag it into the now of the dream.

Once they set you alight, and now though you do not burn, you must set yourself afire without them. They are beyond reprisal, beyond reach. The stars do not chart the path but through the dark passages between let their drives illumine, casting aside grief.

The dead are of the past and to dwell too long with them, miring. Let those who achieved their glory, their moment, in death be hidden forever from the Dream by Gellema's grace. Nestled between the stars. The living must strive ever onward, upward.

Their names are gone, their works ended, their moment found- perhaps. Cast aside memory and embrace the feeling, the immanent. Clear-eyed, see the desires of your heart, with the drive of the fallen- seek them!

With the magic of the now- seize them!

For that is the truth of the Dream. We only have the present. It is in the present all things are possible. All things ungraven. Mutable! Here is where the dying dream can be arrested! Here is where all things can be -made- real!

Though I cast no light, I illumine the dark places for those who seek. Though I do not burn I am Gellema's torch. Take me in hand and be guided through the desert of the dream to the promise of the real.  The ascendant immanent. The triumph of the Now!