Keepers of the Holy Books (a myth)

Keepers of the Holy Books

You think they’re gone, don’t you? Or so you’ve been told anyways. Books that were supposed to have been destroyed or lost in the passage of time. Run over by warriors or mad priests and kings. Sanitizing the world’s view of religions to one of male domination.

But under the earth there are deep caves only the keepers know of. In the mountains there are more. Places where temperatures are cool, the air is dry. Where animal skins and papyrus rest side by side with celluloid and medal. Each innovation finding the old priests faithfully transcribing every word as it was in the text before. Checking and rechecking for accuracy.

It had to be as it was. As told by the gods at the beginning.

“Once there was divine. Male and female. Dark and light. Sky and earth. Who worked together to create the universe. And all within it.”

And in their name, the old priests had male and female temples and symbols. Male and female sages, miracle workers and revelatory spirits.

And taught the younger generations to revere and practice the same.

Why? To prepare for the day when the world was ready to accept that men and women had power. Beyond their bodies, beyond their skin. Where they were more than their gender or sexuality, where they were dark and light, earth and sky.

Where together they were magic. Where together they were part of the divine.

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