Malfurion's Meditation - The Reverence of Small Things
There are truths that do not shout.
They wait for the quiet to find them.
Today I learned that reverence does not live only in temples or prayers.
It lives in the steady hand that plucks a feather without waste,
in the patient washing of blood from a blade,
in the breath taken before giving thanks.
Tyrande calls it faith.
Lytavis calls it balance.
Illidan calls it tedious.
But when I held the knife and felt the weight of what we had taken,
I understood that the wild is not a thing to conquer -
it is a thing to answer.
Each life asks a question of us:
Will you take only what you must?
Will you honor what remains?
Will you walk away gentler than you came?
Tonight, when the fire crackled low and the air smelled of thyme and ash,
I felt something shift in me -
a quiet belonging.
Not to the hunt.
Not to the chase.
But to the small, sacred work of keeping the world whole.