As I speak to you from my time to yours, call it what you must, this narrative, this tale, perhaps only dream and illusion, try to realize that up to this point there are no conclusions. As a young man in these magical circumstances I was quick to find conclusions. I felt that I was a vessel of startling knowledge, which was in a partial sense true; however, my story is far from complete.
Both my father and my uncle warned insistently that our kind must stay transparent to the sight of mankind. They hinted that something deep from our ancestry made us different and even dangerous to others. In my father's words: our life-strands were less tightly woven.
Prior to this night I had twice been convincingly and consciously out of my mortal shell. I knew what it is like to travel in the refined world, to see the trees and mountains glow ethereally and to float in a body much less dense, made of fiery substance rather than flesh. Once while flying I requested the audience of the Sun, but Sol put a hand across His face allowing not my admittance. I was still only in chrysalis stage and not yet hatched to confront the greater state of Blaze.
The shepherds up late tending their flocks witnessed the lights of my going--this would later cause...difficulties. Often they saw such soul lights, old ones departing life or reappearing momentarily or the lights of elementals darting amongst the stalks of grain. And sometimes if fortunate the night watcher would see the lights of the greater Devas as they tracked across the world encased within their auroral vimanas.
As I left the mantle of Terra I was tracked as is usual by the tiny orbs, the unborn souls whirling around wildly and singing their merry songs.
Is it not the same in your own time?
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