We are disappointed in you, son of Din's heart.
Your methods were effective, but brutal.
They consumed you. Did you not think We were ignorant to your hand, pulling Our hammer for your own folly? Did you truly think the heavens would ebb and flow to your will, that you could bend Us?
It is not so.
You are Our needle, and what strength we let you is Our thread. The needle does not take control of the one that holds it. Though you might prick, you have become rusted for lack of handling. We must see to you once more.
Do not fear us, child. We are disappointed, yes. But rust may yet be shed. Tarnish may be polished clean. And We have not forgotten that you have been long, long overdue. You are precious to Us, and cherished. By Us, and by the world.
We will not let you lie alone, forgotten at the bottom of our graces. We do labor over you. We are your true mother.
You who know little love, feel loved by Us. Know the stain of history that now consumes you. But for a time, embrace simplicity. Be washed clean. Never will you be a white needle. But innocence is not the only facet of this world. We love you as you are. Start afresh, if never pure.
Fouled, you suffer. It wounds us that it is your own doing.
This is why you disappoint us.
You will try yet again some other time. There will always be another try.
But for a while, know relief from this form you have abused. Let your eyes see simply, without the film of malice. Let your heart persist and flourish without it. May the etchings of your soul come to bear, but let simple memory sleep for a time.
And wake when it is time to learn.
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