(no subject)
while in the enemy's territory it is always comforting to turn my head to the sky. looming large and unmistakable, i see a massive white mirror of light bouncing our lord's message to me in beams. i sometimes imagine that i can see his face etched into the refractor's facade, smiling on me and my purpose, encouraging me to continue in battle, to persevere. it gets hard, being swallowed by their army, being attacked from above, from below, assaulted from every angle. when the cause seems impossible; when all of the dark one's minions whisper their daily reports of our comings, of our goings; when it seems as if he knows all of our hopes and our dreams and, more often, when he crushes both; i always look up, embracing my lord's illuminating stare, basking in his imagined presence.