Clement XV

we can change our fate.

we can change our future.

we can change the past.

can you tell me what's real?

i've lost my way again.

can you tell me how to feel?

i dont feel anything.

I can see you running every night from the same darkness.

if you just say the word, i'll be there by your side.

even if it means the death of me, i won't let go.

when you're backed against the wall, i could be the one who's always there to break your fall.

who are you to change this world?

no one needs to hear your words.

could you come and change me?

take away everything i am.

bring it to an end.

i'll be what you wanted.

make me fall, make me bleed.

who i am is not good enough. never good enough.

i hear you calling from behind the star fields.

i feel you radiating energy like eternal northern lights.

i see you washing over me across the sky.

but everyone knows by now, fairy tales are not found, they're written in the walls.

we will face the odds against us.

they think I'm crazy, but they don't know the feeling.

you take all of the pain away.

i cannot stop this sickness taking over.

it takes control and drags me into nowhere.

i need your help, i can't fight this forever.

i know you're watching, i can feel you out there.

don't let me go.

the more i fight, the more i work.

i am awake, i am alive.

i won't come down.

if you wanna break free, you know where to find me.

there's no hate, there's no love.

i call your name as i walk alone.

send a signal to guide me home.

but i found in you what was lost in me.

i could lie awake just to watch you breathe.

in the dead of night, you went dark on me.

how could you just walk away and leave me here?

you were all i've got, to guide me home.

i can't do this on my own.

there's nothing left, but i'm not leaving.

i've been looking for a way, to bring you back to life.

and if i could find a way, then i would bring you back tonight.

but you told me, if you love me, let it die.

your eyes stare right through me.

you're so far gone, but i'm not leaving.

and you left me more dead than you'll ever know.

they said there was no way.

i'm gonna take the past away.

there's a memory of how we used to be.

i know, this is the point of no return.

it's uncontrollable, such a beautiful desire.

cardinal lorenzo is a dutiful man, and vincent does not reproach him, does not remind him of his dioceses in the middle east.  of the refugee camps he has lived in. of the arabic he speaks fluently. he simply leads his guest to his office — he had asked for this meeting to be conducted in the casa santa marta, not the apostolic palace he so rarely makes use of — and once inside he pours deco lakatos tea.

as if he is not the holy father.  as if, at least when he can get away with it, he wishes to be perceived as a man. not a saint. not the vicar of christ. but vincent. father benítez. the priest with the gentle voice.

The network of Deco's neckbones unknot. His narrow confidence thrashes a path through the tall weeds. Three hard tugs of a strimmer string to start the engine. "Beautiful surroundings must...weigh heavy when one carries responsibility—or truth."

His thumb and finger pinch together, grounding. He clears his throat, his jaw nuts bulge. Tea still tip-tingles from the pope's hand into Deco's cup. He turns to look on the end of their courtesy. As doing, the blade of light his body had been blocking, manufactured by a gap in the opposing apartments, bounces into the stream of brewed water and dissevers across the unfinished plaster walls in strange arrangements.

we should not seek nor ask for miracles as proof of god's existence because we are proof of god's existence because god is already every facet of our self, reality, and beyond reality. kind of like matter rather than a force separate from matter that created matter because that would imply we - and matter - are separate from god

skeptical, slow to respond, not impulsive: there is some leeway with this with jinn and angels but on the hole superstition, magic, demons, ghosts and the paranormal, are irrelevant. miracles are sometimes seen as manifestations of the devil sent to trick people into following false prophets and lead them astray from a moral, moderate path. one must exercise critical thought and observation of that strange phenomena and be wary of it

repressed and seeks unhealthy outlets to channel his emotions: because one must strive for "absolute sobriety" in relation to witnessing miracles this is a lot of pressure when you're separated from your support network. religious fervour and too much of any passion about anything is not appropriate (though there are some exceptions), sometimes even dancing and music is proscriptive (though there are some exceptions.) this makes his one night stands and adultery feel very very very very good