Adwin’s song —
In the time of deities, monarchs, and oracles, I was a girl.
It was a time when only deities could make meaning out of nothing. They made words, dreams, and songs. I was there.
One day, I sang.
Did you know that it’s possible to get lost and be found all at once? To belong? I was alive when I sang. If anyone worried, I didn’t know. If everyone cursed, I didn’t know. If the whole village whispered, I didn’t know about the jealousy of the gods.
Once, the oracle spoke to me “Sing low, sing ugly. If you don’t, you call forth the gods’ jealousy. Sing low. Better yet, not at all.” My songs went to war with the shadows of the prophecy inside me. I became an empty shell.
Twice, I walked through the forest all the way up to the temple. The third time, I lamented in song in spite of me. Then, I felt good. Then, I kept singing. I was alive after all.
After all, it was an affront to the gods to sing my song at their feet. It was too late to run. The temple warped onto itself into nothingness. The gods summoned me with a vengeful sermon. I met my fate.
“For every song you sing, a fire shall rise out of you and burn you from the inside out for all eternity. You shall heal fully until your burn again.”
The die was cast but the fear and the fire could never stifle me. True hell was living a half life and freedom must come with a price.
I sing on. So sing along with me, with every artist before and after me.
We’re alive.