Two ways are set before every soul. (Psalms 1)

The first belongs to the one who turns away from the counsel of chaos and the seat of scorn. Their delight is fixed on a higher, truer word. They meditate on it, and it becomes their lifeblood. They are like a great tree, planted not by chance but with purpose beside a perpetually flowing stream. Its roots are deep in truth, its branches wide in grace. It is unshakable, fruitful in every season, its leaves eternally green. This one is known, sustained, and upheld.

The other way is an illusion of substance. It is the way of self, the counsel of the crowd, the pride of the scoffer. Those who walk it are rootless. In the end, they are revealed as chaff—the dry, empty husk of what could have been grain—carried off by the slightest wind of consequence. They cannot endure. Their path, for all its noise, leads only to dissolution.

For the Eternal One watches over the way of the rooted and the righteous. The way of the withered, He knows, leads only to dust.