Walking between worlds.

People will say it was the Creator’s plan. But it wasn’t the Creator’s plan—it was man’s plan.

The Creator valued you and never saw you as less.

You were viewed as an object—picked up, removed, and placed elsewhere.

The children must be saved. We know better.

To grow surrounded by love, yet carrying a quiet sense of displacement. Walking in between worlds—one where no one looks like you, while wondering where the other world has gone.

Lawyers signed the papers.

“We can accept you,” they said, “but first you must learn to reject who you are and think like us.”

They wanted you to hate yourself as much as they hated what made you different.

The roads you navigated gave you knowledge, but they also left you standing outside, never fully belonging. Discernment, understanding, and instinct became your greatest teachers.

You could play the game, or enter another institution—much like the one that processed you, transferred you, and treated you as something that could be bought and sold.

Then Grandfather appeared.

A new road appeared.

You learned that it is possible to love and forgive, even when facing hatred. You found your way back to your ancestral state.

But how do you survive when the system demands conformity?

You cannot—not completely—because the system broke those bones.

They can separate families.

They can wound spirits.

But they cannot erase what the Creator placed within you. Your bones hollowed.

So you carry forward what you know, what you learned about yourself, and what you learned about the world that adopted you.

Along the way, others shared thoughts, stories, books, and experiences that helped you see life differently. Each one widened your understanding, and over time, a circle formed—not through sameness, but through shared humanity, respect, and growth.

Some people asked,

“Is he selling out?”

“Is he too outspoken?”

“Did he test peoples willingness to give too much in order to find acceptance”?

“Why would he open wounds?”

You simply smiled.

What people see in you is often a reflection of the part of themselves that has not yet healed.

We cried, but now I understand.

You left gently, without explanation, without goodbyes.

May your journey be peaceful.

Walk softly into the next world.

Thank you, Maskwa.