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Spirit is born into a world of cracks and faults, her shoulders being put to the test of Strength.
Soul is created in a place to dank to live in, but his breaths still come, strong and steady.
Heart built a world tall enough to pierce the floors of Heaven, strong enough to stand against the armies of Hell.
When Spirit and Soul clash in the Heart, what is the name of their child? When the cracks fit in perfect style and confusion,, after Strength and Power implode?
The child is Love.
Love is anarchic and follows none of your rules, and burning down everything anyone ever knew. Love created Doubt and Pain, who graced us so kindly with Scars.
Scars mar the skin, marking the spot where the World hit Soul and Spirit best. Scars break the flesh, stay after the blood has been shed, and maybe even after Pain and doubt leave. They stay. Long after, partners with the dull ache of a Memory.
Sorrow follows Memory, lost, wanting what she’s lost, wanting Happiness, who has so cleverly threaded himself in the depths of any Memory.
Happiness is a smile, he’s a chuckle and a warm blanket over the cold body, waiting the isles for Love, riding in the waves of Time.
Hate, is a cut, a thin slice that draws blood, bringing tears and ripping up scream. The strongest of Heart often fall to Hate, because he is the darkest shade of Love, always Love.
But when spirit and Soul are tired, and Heart is weak, there’s no room for resting within Scars, or dwelling on Doubt and Pain. There’s no time to Hate or curse what Time has taken, no use in tearing the Body up with Sorrow. There is only a need for Love, remembering things with Happiness and Joy, making Life.
Life is a baby, born into the World ready, eyes open, prepared to