There is a circle to life; an inevitability of death, and nature will always find her path. We can no more change this fact, than we can blow the clouds from the skies. Life is precious, so they say, and yet it is only the finality that death brings that makes it so.

I am not a rich man; I cannot afford unlimited generosity in either material nor spiritual gift. But I do what I can. I have… skills… talents. I have abilities beyond those of most healers; a touch envied by physicians and surgeons the world over. I bring a message of love and forgiveness; a message so despised by many, they would hunt down and destroy those to whom I’d tended, or provided compassion.

And yet, here I sit, basking in the glory of another ‘miraculous’ saving; enjoying yet more acclaim for what, to me, is but the simplest of tasks. I know—even if my friends are still in ignorance—that I must leave. My work here, whilst bringing some obvious relief, is secondary to the overall needs of the entire world; to the salvation of mankind.

I must leave in order that the torture, oppression, and subjugation of the many is brought to an end through enlightenment and love. My staying may save me, but would kill many others. I fear not, for I shall live on in the hearts and minds of the righteous.

The soldiers will come, and my friends must denounce me, that they may save themselves; living to spread my message. They must build love; they must build faith.

I hear them coming, but I am ready. I am ready to return to my father.