The Panels, The Obelisk

How many more battles will be fought over nothing?
How many more days of uncertainty and of guilt and of lost purpose?
How much can I miss you and still keep it together in some hobbled, disheveled way?

What are the rewards for the job well done, for the life led along a narrow path, for a sense of something approaching a subtle shard of honor?

Does any victory come without a price, any goal come within reach without the anchor of loss or of pain?

We have faced down violence, anger, madness, illness, chaos, debt, doubt, turncoats, and outright cowardice and yet we are still standing.

Still standing, yes, but for what?

I know that look, the way he turns back to find me in the mess of humanity.
I know that sense of fear, of being alone and not being prepared.
I detest myself for ushering that in and having no antidote for the ugliness that comes with being.
I am a monster.
I am a fool.
I have spoiled the party as have the rest of us, to the one, who with oceanic arrogance dream of facing down the inevitable and spewing our souls into the next step with futile hopes of absolution.

Everything is predictable in its disarray.
All the punches come full-force, none are pulled, and all are right on the money.
We stand together, embraced, taking it all, and smiling...

And showing you how it's done because you have no idea who we are and what we stand for.

And you never will.

Keep it coming. The Chapel knows the truth, and we all know what the truth will do.