Page 174 - DivineSparkRisingFinal

Divine Spark Rising
continent. Schools. Shelters. Slums. Stages. Places
where words mattered because people had been
told they didn’t.
“You still sure about this?” she asked.
“The Word doesn’t need a guardian anymore. It
needs gardeners.” He said.
She looked at him carefully. “You’re planning to
disappear.”
He didn’t deny it.
“Every symbol has to outgrow its source,” he
said. “If I stay, they’ll turn me into something I’m
not. A brand. A god. A target.”
Her voice was soft. “They already did that.”
He chuckled. “Then I’m retiring.”
Around the world, echoes of the spiral continue:
A tattoo artist in Lagos etches it onto a man’s
chest, but reverses the direction, “Because
sometimes freedom means going backward to
move forward.”
A children’s choir in Oslo sings the twelve steps
as a melody, ending with silence.
A homeless man in Delhi paints it in ash on the
ground and invites passersby to sit inside it and
speak their truest name.
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