The Mounting Pressures of Madness

MORTALS—do any of ye feel, as I, that a whirling vortex of chaos & woe grows with each passing day? That the thieves & warmongers who hold power, walk all of society toward disaster, a doom-lurch that seems impossible to stop? As if, e’en on the brightest day, lurks a pilgrim shadow?

Wars, rumors of wars, plague, hatred, extinction—a miasma of misery rises from all corners of this benighted world. Madness in any direction, at any hour, & a sense that we are losing. Weight enough to crush any being.

But we must not break, under this pressure. We can bear the weight, if we bear it together. Alone, we may crack, & choke on the miasma. We must lend our strength, & relieve our fellows. The more space we create for others to catch their breath, the more we all may breathe more freely. The more joy we create, & share with others, lightens all our spirits—we shall not succeed if we crumble into despair.

I hope ye lean upon someone today, if ye need it—or shoulder another’s burden, if ye can.

Thank ye for reading, mortals—& we bow with especial thanks to those generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I shall write ye come Wednesday with news of this week’s episode—assuming the Mad King manages not to destroy us all in the meantime. ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & be kind to thy local birds. They need the help.

Cheers,
Amoenus Franco
Writer, Wizard, Weary