The moon is full of wishes after all, we just don’t know how to unlock its magic.

Humankind lost the codex somewhere between the ancient revelation of greed and the fear of death, so now we’re lost without the knowledge meant to pass down generation to generation. Even if it were here on display, accessible, today, there are no translators to be trusted. We have no true guides to follow from modern slang and whine back across the ages to wisdom and ingenuity. Lack of focus is our greatest obstacle. Once beyond that hulking barrier we would have to overcome greed and the fear of death. Just around the corner from the fear of death is its multi-faceted source—fear of the different, fear of self, the fear that truth might not be relative at all.

Truth is never relative to the person speaking theirs. Those few brave souls who muster the strength to combine original thought with voice—they do not believe truth is relative. It is a bright solid thing with borders that the lesser and the jealous want to cross, to vandalize. Do not write in those margins, leave them bare. Leave them be, because in that place made on either side of the voices of the brave, that is not a narrow purposeless space. Study the brightness of it, recognize it’s worth and beauty, ask for invitation, tread lightly and perhaps revelation might occur. Truth didn’t arrive to those few because they denied possibilities, because they denied the existence of your truth. Quite the opposite.

Perhaps these few are our only hope to find what has been lost. Perhaps, if we protect the truth-speakers, nurture them, perhaps … we might one day produce trustworthy guides back to the purpose of humankind, back to magic and wisdom.

I must live with patience and hope in us, and while doing so trust that my own vision needs broadening—there might just be more to the moon than wishes. There might just be magic resting beneath my feet, waving in the breeze all around me.