Thursday, March 16, 2006

justice.

cryptic writing one...

and so justice is certainly flawed.

if there can be no peace without justice... then the human condition... a state of constant war? hrmph.

only a ghost can know ghosts... and so by being a ghost to others, so i shall certainly have my own.

but the war is within this realm, and my purpose precedes me.

constant vigilance is always the price.

but the price is too high. surely this is an unstable equilibrium.

i should like to leave this place... in favor of a world without ghosts...

no ghosts necessary. the pursuit of her elusive justice is a trivial affair. the just need not be characterized by their ability to make war, but by their ability to make peace. her cloak is sufficient to protect us all. her torch's light precludes the blaze of the barrel. here i can rest. to libertatia my heart. perhaps only attainable in death.

liberty my liege. peace my petition.

justice my blade. truth my submission.

though these cloaks weigh on me, they are devoid of incisions.

though this armor is heavy, those without inhabit a prison.

cryptic writing two...

wayward father, take no more vengeance in my name! protect me from injustice as i protect you, but take no justice from my hands. if i am the bearer, then i shall be the giver. only my blade bears my name, and my blade never tarries from my hands.

when i die, we shall meet. when we meet, i will understand. should the truth be anything but this, my blade will bear his name and seek your blood. he died as my brother died. he died as my brother.

i will face slaughter at your hands rather than submit to your rule. you are an unjust god. corrupt not my watchword. corrupt not my name. my name is not yours. all is yours, save my name. my name is not yours!