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I am alone.
I am the protector and the keeper of a sacred light.
I cannot let this beacon go out.
I must continue to shine.
Just as the stars must continue to burn, distant, constant, and white.

The ocean is never still,
however people continue to cross it- no matter its unpredictability;
a heart never stops beating,
however, no matter how much fortification you have around it,
you should treat it as a miracle, and marvel at every beat
as if it were your last;
and cherish every breath like a flame that dances between life and infinity.

I feel a dream-wave come over me
and then immediately wash me out to sea,
to the realm of the dream-maker:
I dream that I am on a boat traversing through an icy sea,
as I stare up at the stars above me in the sky
from the bow of an unstoppable and mighty ice-breaker.

I am awoken again by a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder,
but the sky and the sea are calm, clear, and golden, so far-
looking out now you could so easily mistake what you see for a dream,
because the vista of the vast water
is more akin visually right now
to a beautiful sunrise landscape on Mars.

I pass from day into night so easily.
I welcome the arrival of the moon,
just as I cherish the rise of the sun.
I can go from walking under the stars in the dark,
to hearing and seeing every detail of day life
while on a morning run.

When I see the light of others go out around me,
I mourn their passing as if I were mourning the loss of something inside of me,
that for every hour that passes continues to mean something deeper.
I cherish the memory and the light of others,
just as I cherish the light within me that shines for all the world to see;
because I am a dreamer, because I am a guardian of hope,
because I am a lighthouse keeper.

At the heart of the Pacific Ocean,
on an island removed and isolated from the outside world
the Moai statues of Easter Island-
standing tall, un-moving, carved in stone,
and even today their significance, their truth,
and their history is still being excavated, and unfurled-
still remain to be seen by all and marveled at
on this sacred ground from where they were sculptured,
that have stood for hundreds of years- each unique from the other-
embody the importance of lineage and ancestry,
and a story that can still be heard.
As they gaze inland
towards the direction to which the clan that first erected them once resided,
the islanders of Isla de Pascua
still today look in the direction of the great stone memorialized deities
that still watch over their island-
and even though they may not see them directly,
they can always picture them in their head.

I have always been fascinated by the moai statues-
how some once stood, were then topped, and were then risen again
to their rightful place;
I could never get enough of reading or hearing about
what they once meant to their people-
a constant reminder of a culture and face
that you cannot easily erase.

Remembering the past and retracing where we have all come from
is very important, and in doing so can teach you about yourself-
learning and discovering something about an ancestor of yours,
who was born somewhere far-away,
whose thoughts, actions, and decisions,
still live-on hereditarily and genetically in each one of us,
is as important to know as our own health.

I one day hope to be able to go somewhere,
find a monument to someone great, and discover-
like the Moai of Easter Island-
that this monument was carved for me to find, to see,
and to reconnect with a broken ancestry
that I can reforge, and call my own;
I hope one day to be able to hear the echoes of the past,
and see the light and the shadow of those who have passed, loud and clear-
and be reminded that although everything changes,
some things are forever set in stone.

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