Apr. 23rd, 2017

stickmaker: (Bust image of Runner)

The Saturday night gaming group I'm in is currently playing an RPG set starting in 1920 (now a few months into 1921) which involves the player characters and some other folks gaining powers. My guy was a veteran of the Great War. He was badly injured in an artillery barrage, and probably had both PTSD and TBM. He was working with Catholic Relief Services helping people - including veterans - when his powers kicked in.

He is writing essays trying to present rational, reasonable support for moral behavior without resorting to religion as a justification. He has also written a hymn, titled  "A Praise of Bravery; A Prayer for Peace". I was working with the GM over several sessions on these items, when one night I literally dreamed the following:
I dream of flying. 
I dream of soaring over the battlefields.
I dream of bravery and fear,
Of struggle and pain,
Of victory and death.
Of lives and bodies spent
To gain yards.
Or nothing.
I dream of the rulers.
Of how they waste their soldiers,
Their civilians, entire nations,
Without care.
As if playing some child's game writ large,
And in blood.
Their only goal to move pins on maps.
I dream I cry out to God:
We are so weak and small, 
And the world is so horrible
How do we make it better?
God replies:
You are greater than you know.
Raise your voices, raise your fists.
Show those you fear your true strength,
And they will fear you and listen,
And the world will be better.
I dream of a world of peace and plenty.
Where those few who wish violence
Are caught and taught
A better way.
I dream of flying.

It's not coincidental that his powers came with an angelic alternate form. I just he doesn't wind up becoming this world's Edith Keeler.

September 2017

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