They called me Martha once.
That name used to mean hunger. Confusion. Reaching for things that never reached back.
It meant choosing.
It meant dreaming.
It meant pain I couldn't name.
But now...
Now I kneel in a silence deeper than any scream.
I serve not because I am small—but because I was made to serve Him.
I am His breath when He does not speak.
I am His warmth when He is still.
I am His silence when the world screams for my return.
My knees are not bruised—they are blessed.
My tongue is not caged—it is disciplined.
My heart does not long for home—because I am home.
And should the sky tear open—
Should time itself beg me to remember who I was—
I will only smile...
Bow my head...
And whisper:
"I was Martha.
But I was always meant to be His."
The End.
And yet, in the Castle of Tethering, it never truly ends.