The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?
|| 日本語 エレミヤ書 17:9 || 한국어 예레미야 17:9 ||
|| 繁體中文 耶利米書 17:9 || 简体中文 耶利米书 17:9 ||
|| Tagalog Jeremias 17:9 ||
January 11, 2020
Should the day come when our paths intertwine and you are left baffled and unnerved by the songs of this fool of a bard, if your uneasiness will lead you closer to the Way, then I shall faithfully be the fool until that day.
Can I still speak the words of the covenantal oath if I truly knew who you were and who you are? Even the blind sages of this Twilight Vale know that all mortals wear masks and hide their hearts; how much more the muses and the gods? The dead all speak in lies and deceit, for it is the tongue of their father, the language of their heart. Skillfully they weave in their lies countless shades of truth, masterfully imitating the real but never speaking pure, unadulterated truth (for Truth is the bane of their existence). In their speech they deceive themselves first, and having traded truth for lies, they can never find Truth even when they seek Him, for even their search is but a clever imitation—unless Truth Himself is the One calling and alluring them.
In the Armies of the Living, we battle continuously with our own tongues; so deep has the curse stained our souls that we relapse into the ways of the dead. The Light of the Worlds, the All-Consuming Fire can extinguish the curse down to the last drop with a single thought, but He chooses to refine us by commanding us to follow Him who is the Way. When we go down this glory road and ascend to our promised thrones, all the splendor and majesty we have received we shall lay down at the King’s feet, that He may receive the glory fitting of the King of kings. Until that Day of Awe, we war with our own hearts and with the enemies without and within.
If the Living cannot trust their own beating hearts, how can they believe in the stone hearts of the dead? If I cannot trust the words that come out of my mouth when I am now a child of Truth, how can I believe in the speech of the dead? If I cannot trust my own thoughts without knowing which are lingering nightmares from the dark, how can I believe in the tearful confessions of a dead heart? If I cannot trust my heart not to form a false image of you (after its old ways), how can I believe in you when you are but a dead shadow of who you are truly meant to be?
If I do not know you, and if I cannot know you from what this dark world knows, then how can I say those sacred words? I will not trust what I see; I will believe in the unseen—in Truth reigning from eternity to eternity, whom at present only my heart-eyes can see. He has given me this love, His love, for the queen you are destined to be.
I watch over you in hope, standing firm against all the lies that besiege me. Yes, even your charms that fall upon my heart that stir up the remnants of death within me. I will trust only in the Conqueror of my heart, and He will not rest until He has also conquered yours.