if somehow, what I know in my gut to be true and what God has told me Himself speaking to my soul to be true ends up being a falsified projection, then i would still walk into the eternally dark lands of the outcast while looking you dead in the eyes because, my eurydice—in that i am orpheus, too unsure of my place, even beside you, when the ending of the world is distilled to a single, fragile night, yet aching to trust— i want you to know a simple fact— are you aware that the fangs of venomous snakes are hollowed, but for a steady toxin intended to harm? without their supposed birthright, they are helpless— and so, my darling, i am not afraid of empty threats to tear a moon from her tide, a sword from his stone, a ship from her anchor— after all, even Lucifer could not wrongly divine what was meant to be for eternity.
Thank you. Blesings!