We are all representatives of the human species. Each and every one of us, for better or worse. Remember that. And when the Day finally comes, as come it most surely will, please consider this also, that the higher beings will not choose to go to the White House or the Kremlin, to the Vatican, to Mecca, to Machu Picchu, Jerusalem or the Great Hall of Beijing, to the pyramids, to the stones circles, or even to the summit of the highest, most holy mountain, nor will they seek audience with the rich, famous and powerful, or the host of self-proclaimed emissaries of extraterrestrial civilisations. No, They shall instead come to you, shall come knocking on your door, come from the most unimaginably distant reaches of the cosmos and even farther beyond, come to behold your final song, for now is the time of the Crossing. It's make or break. It's time to choose, here where time stands still and the path forks into two. Time to make our final stand, for time has run out and the hourglass is empty.

So roll up and get ready, the carnival has come. The pregnant sky swells with dancing rainbow lights, blushing and burning in unending rapture. Hear now, hear now, this ocean-deep silence, stalking us like a purple panther on the prowl, the world echoing with the voice of the returning past. Fasten your safety belts for we fly into turbulence. See now, see now, the Red Star is rising and the Blue Star descends, the goat lies down with the leopard, the wolf with the lamb. The Angel of the Apocalypse stands ready and willing to unveil our hearts, a mother peeling back the swaddling robes of her newborn babe. Deep, so deep, Her obsidian eyes peer into the depths of our soul. Heart now bare witness, speak loud in true testimony. How did you walk upon this 
giving earth, down this long and winding, good red road? How many smiles of solace did you freely give? How many merciful tears did your holy heart  shed? How many tender-touch blessings did those hands bestow? How many kind words did this mouth give utterance to? You, who thought you were nobody, who was always somebody. You, who believed you were nothing, who was all things and everywhere, not worthless but rarer and more precious than gold or diamonds. Fashioned in ecstasy to bring down fire from Heaven.

The Bluebird sings of a far yet near place, across the River of No Return, where stands a funeral pyre of broken hearts and broken bones, upon which shall be weighed the measure of our love. Revealed now, the one we served. The one we loved. Oh heart, oh our heart, what we could have been, if only. If only. For did the Most Holy One forge us to be less than the mighty atom, less than the virus whose touch changed our world in the blink of an eye, less than a match that sets alight the tinder-dry moors, or the hole in the damn that brought the whole thing crashing down? No, this can never be. This can never be. But though the time has now past, be your steadfast and of good faith. Be you low to the grass and humble. Be you high to the sky and holy. Know that though fallen into the gaping mouth of the dark and devouring abyss, yet those sleeping wings of fire remain. So wipe the dust from your eyes and enter the Great Hall of Silence, where sits your enthroned your own soul in judgement. Behold your true reflection in the obsidian mirror. Nothing less and nothing more.

The lightning flashes to reveal the darkness's deceit, the voice of the Seven Thunders cries out in righteous fury: 'By whose corrupt hand have my children come to harm? By whose malignant intent have my children been nailed upon this accursed cross?' The storm is raging, the mountain exploding. The ancestors are gathered. The Grandmothers are dancing the whirlwind. Come forth the tempest. Come forth fire, come forth wind, hail and rain, to wash all this affliction and suffering away. Knight of the grail, don your armour and bare your fiery sword. Take your place upon the battlefield and march beneath Her banner, you who shall never feast upon Her flesh, but only ever kneel at Her altar. The unquiet dead search the earth, their voice to be heard. The scales of Anubis scream out for justice. Nowhere left to hide, for each mind shall hear the whispers of all minds. Each stone, each leaf, each clod of clay, each blade of grass, each broken blade, shall speak out in loud testimony. Each eye shall see all that has ever been. Each heart beholds the All. Through the lens of the soul, all comes into sharp focus. Awaken, awaken, the Bluebird sings. Conjoin male and female, that you may enter the temple, that you may become as the Phoenix. Behold, the sun is rising, a brand-new dawning, robed in a ne'er before witnessed, transcendental beauty. Root and branch change place, and all is a shining newness. Behold, the New Jerusalem steps forth like a blushing bride with supernova smiles, welcoming us all to the Alchemical Wedding.

So come now, come now, from far and wide, to know, to be subsumed in this rarest of moments, these brightest of blessings from above and below. Come now, Our love. Come now, the children. The Ouroboros bites its tail, the firebird flies forth majestically from the cauldron. Fear not this death, which is no death at all. Mother, Father, my Lady, our Lord, I see the whole cosmos dancing in perfect symphony. I see the ring of eternity placed upon Her finger. Oh, how you dance, how you dance, you who are alpha and omega, the beginning and end.

At the centre of the Garden, there stands a tree. A tree that is always. A tree that is everything. And it is written in the Book of Love, that She shall never forsake us, if only for the sake of one. For the sake of just one little difference that made all the difference in the world: this one tiny glitch in the matrix, this one thread woven in the web, just the smile of a small, kind girl on the streets of Buenos Aires, a smile so bold and bright it did call forth the angels. A smile of such light and wonder, the sun blinked and winked, swooning and shedding rivers of blood and flame. For her, the Blue Star Kachina revealed Her face in the marketplace. For her, the White Buffalo Calf Woman returned. So rejoice, be of good cheer, for 'tis the season of singing. All that has decayed and withered, now blossoms and blooms. Rejoice, sing hallelujah, the Bluebird sings, for She comes, She comes. Comes forth in great glory, comes dressed as a bride. Divine, divine, most high and holy. A new day, a new dawn, a new way, a new world. One thought, one vision, whose time has come. So sings my heart in final testimony, this phoenix heart, broken and reborn a thousand times and more. So sings the Firebird, come from the Garden Where Four Rivers Flow, in search of his long-lost but not forgotten love. So sings the Angel of the Golden Gateway, this angel who once sang at the beginning of the All, who shall sing once more at the end of all things.

By Uriel