Not every night is a victory.

Tonight, as I purified myself and my room for the State rituals, it felt more like a desperate plea for sanctuary than a service.

I entered the sacred space of the shrine in darkness, and came face to face – eye to eye – with my gods. And They held me in that space; they contained me within Their holy shroud of night. They sheltered me for a moment, as I knelt before Them.

“We cannot take the pain away, but we can stand by you while you survive.”

In the quiet of the shrine, in the space between the words of my rituals I paused, taking in Their presence, allowing the quiet moments to pass between us as they always have.

“Not every night is a victory. Some nights are surrenders. What truly counts is the zep tepi in the morning after.”

And there we stayed for some time: the Gods on Their shrine, radiant, with Their servant and child kneeling before Them.

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