In these seasons ( a letter from a retainer)

In these mean seasons we grow weary of our lust to live. We turn to our fears and embrace them as though they were familiar. We come to gaze our enemy eye to eye and without blinking pass into the days of tomorrow. Even now in knowing our limitations do we list our strengths and guided by the gentle hand of the unseen we come to know when to control ourselves. Thus embracing the desperation in our way do we cease to be virtuous and become something object, towering all things yet meaning nothing. In this decadence we come to know all things as many and yet fear not the difference that separates us all, for this difference is nothing more than abject fear. Silently, without tongues, without touch all wounds are healed and presented as cause for jubilation as a creature gifted with a mind can learn. Thus your humble servant can speak without fearing that his words be misused.