Dollhouse Letter

Exhaustion came easy, yet sleep kept its distance. Slowly we learned the rules of this newfound life, but flesh continually called back to a plane that no longer existed. The veil was getting thicker between the two worlds, but my mind pressed against the sheets trying to find opened spaces, trying to stay grounded in what was. We are no longer what was, we are transforming. I knew we were, for dreams sprang away from us like shadows from a piercing sun. We all laid awake, awake in the darkness, minds not letting go of its life like its counterpart.
The classic war of humanity. The split human. Head and Heart. Who was to drive us, in this world? Who was to keep us on the path toward the flash of light? Who was going to guide our feet, and keep our eyes on the truth of this new life? This new foundation? The head could tell me what is. The head could tell me the facts of the old world and could only reflect its speech in this world toward unbelief. The heart will tell me what can be, what should be. The ought. Without heart there is no forward, only silent stagnation anchored in “fact.”
Fact is only applicable to a world of constants. Gravity. Rotation and revelation. Times and seasons. Sequence and cause and effect. This is no such world. This is a world of stars moving at will- though grounds lay still- and relics running from physical manifestation back to hidden shadow of subconscious.

This world requires of us to elect a new head. Reason is lost on these lands, logic loses purpose. Heart must come to its rightful place in us. The forerunner of our sojourn. The center of our being. Accepting this, frees us. Freedom allows us the choice to follow this to the end: And there is nothing like it.
The boundary of old life that binds us to act in interest of causation had disappeared once acceptance of heart had rooted. This connection, though, differs greatly from our new world connection. This world is a world of connection free of speech. A world of relationships tied to something greater than self-preservation. The paper hearts of old have taken flight with the rushing wind of change. A new sovereign now sits on throne and is crowned and given all authority of state. The cold reason of a reminiscent life, sits in solitude as the golden summers of heart now burn in us. Nothing can compare, not youthful ways nor innocent days. The child immaculate has grown to kingship- and this rule conquers us. Heart now drives us. A burn that pulls us. Drives us to journey’s end.