Fear is the secret name of Life.
It is the hidden pulse beneath flesh and stone,
the silent cry at the root of all becoming.
Darkness is the mother of light.
From her unseen womb,
the stars are kindled,
and the eyes of living things awaken.
That which strikes terror into the marrow of our bones
is but the mirror of the Infinite—
the breath of the First Mystery,
the roar of the Nameless Depths
from which all things are born.
The Lord of the Worlds did not depart.
He moved as He always moves—
from veil to veil, from form to form.
We beheld His coming,
but His being never ceased.
The prophets and sages, the beasts of field and sky,
the trees that drink the deep waters,
the stones that remember the songs of rivers—
all are His faces.
All are the living images of the One.
They are not gods apart from the Lord;
they are gods because they are drenched in His nearness,
because they have not strayed into forgetting.
All who live, and tremble, and long,
all who fall to their knees before the Great Unknown—
they dwell still in His breath.
Fear is not our enemy.
It is the secret sigil of our belonging.
It is the flickering torch that lights the path
back to the Source.