These are increasingly dangerous times and my thoughts becoming increasingly dangerous as they yearn for release. Yes, my thoughts push at the bars of their cage with a force that grows ever stronger with every day that passes in a successful attempt at becoming words. Knowledge I should not know, and wisdom I should not posses all but screaming within and becoming deafening so that it all might be heard by the outside world. It is not like the voice that tainted Illidan's path, or tempts Rand al'Thor against his will; no, it is myself alone that calls. Though among that knowledge is the experience of lives passed enough to know that patience yields some of the greatest rewards. I know I can speak now and my words, like those of some many others before, will be all but lost to the winds with not a single ear--or heart--to hear them. I do not know, however, if the time will come where I can speak and be heard is even in this life, or the next. It is like a seed of the great Oak tree that is straining grow and blossom in soil that becomes more rocky everyday, but the Oak is strong, and lives a very long time, and so will prevail in a time of greatest need to the life around it--as it was; as it is; as it will be.
I came here today to maybe speak, but I came quickly to realize that it is not yet time. I do not know my destiny, nor do I know how much of it I can control. I will be my own Hero--a legend to myself--but how much of that will I be able to share with others? More importantly how many others will there be that are apart of it. They Eye of Avo blesses those below and the Eye of Skorm awaits the unwitting. There is crisis on the horizon, and we may yet see forces unveiled that have not been known on this planet in twenty-six thousand years--old barriers weaken and things that once were are born again. In the days there will be hardship greater than we have seen in many, many years. In this nation what was the Great Depression will look like so much fluff compared to what the people are not prepared to face. Know that when even scrolled parchment is a potentially dangerous medium, many things go unsaid. The Dark One has eyes in everything and is as intelligent as he is deceiving--more intelligent than most could ever imagine--and his power grows; oh, it grows and bends the worlds to his will like a flaccid stalk of celery. Be wary of the light that shines and remember the name of the Fallen One. Be true to your heart in all that you do, and that is all I say for now.
