Ultimum Verbum Divinitatis

Clarity does not come when you see more, but when you see your limit in the light of the truth that tells it all.

Under the incandescent sky of the desert, where the sand hides truths older than time, I walked with my heart beating to the rhythm of an unspoken call. The sun, at its zenith, wove mirages that floated in the hot air like the shadows of a forgotten dream. When, suddenly, I glimpsed a hidden grotto, sculpted by the winds of the ages. Invisible to the unwary eye, this "Camera Silentium" seemed a gateway to the mysteries of the universe. At its center, on a slab polished by erosion, lay an ancient parchment, vibrating with a palpable energy. Written in a mixture of ancient Hebrew, Latin, and pre-Sumerian symbols, the text revealed itself to me with a supernatural clarity, as if it had been engraved into my own being.

Touching the words, some began to glow with a lux aeterna , revealing a hidden message: "Free will is My gift, but I keep the last word." Most likely, the parchment spoke of a cosmic order in which God granted man freedom of choice, but always intervenes when his soul wanders, threatening his creation. Just as in the parable of Jonah, who thought he could escape fate, I understood that no man can defy the divine will. And the deeper I penetrate the mystery of the sand, the more clearly I hear the voice that judges the soul.

Leadership: How can recognizing the limits of free will inspire a vision that aligns the soul with a higher order whose only will is truth?

In the sheets of parchment, which seemed to breathe with me, I deciphered the story of Napoleon, a brilliant mathematician whose soul was blinded by the desire to become the supreme leader. His dream, similar to that of Alexander the Great, transformed the world into a battlefield, with millions of innocent deaths. People, acclaimed by the institutions of the state, revered him as a victor, but only God knew the truth: Napoleon was a merciless soul, who sacrificed lives for his own glory. The parchment itself called this moment "Obscuratio Animae", a darkening of the soul that required divine intervention.

Here at Waterloo, Napoleon's plans were shattered, and his exile to a desert island was the sign that divinity had the last word. What does this mean? What message does God convey? That, in the end, truth defeats any strategy of vanity, and that, from every fall, ordinary people can learn to seek the light. After all, only eyes that look with humility understand that glory without truth is only a blindness of the heart.

The power to change the world belongs to those who can see beyond the will, into the womb of an invisible divine order. As in Dante's "Divine Comedy", where each soul is judged according to its deeds, I felt that the desert itself was a tribunal of truth. Reading the parchment, I understood with lucid pain that Napoleon's free will was an illusion, for his wicked soul could not overcome God's creation. With each deciphered symbol, with each moment of revealing silence, I understood that it is not man who rules the world, but He who reads the heart, and that it will never be given to anyone to overthrow the sacred order of truth.

Leadership: How can understanding divine judgment shape the courage to choose good in the face of the temptation of power, without falling into the illusion of absolute control?

As night fell, the dark reflections and moving shadows in the cave began to glow, projecting onto the walls a "Codex Stellaris", a star code marking the moments when God intervened in history. It was then that I learned that every 1001 years, when the alignment of the "Stell Ludicium" constellations heralds imbalance, the Divine Presence changes the course of events, choosing pure souls to restore order. An enigmatic passage shook me: "He who finds this place is called to see the truth: the last word belongs not to man, but to the Creator."

At that moment, "Ignis Veritatis", a spark of divine truth, revealed to me that I had not arrived here, in the desert, by chance, but to witness a destiny that had always been written for me beyond my will.

As in the legend of King Arthur, where only the worthy can lift the sword from the stone, I understood that the good soul is the one chosen by God. The desert, with its sand that hides secrets, whispered to me that free will is a gift, but not an absolute power. And with each revelation chained in the lines of the parchment, I discovered that I did not choose my path, but the path chose me, guided by divine judgment.

I wonder, then, how is the nature of a soul reflected in visual form when it is no longer a channel of light but a mirror distorted by ambition? Perhaps only the vanity of the desert knows the answer, for, like the remains of millions of lives turned to sand, nothing remains of the glory of men except, perhaps, a silence swept by the wind. And I do not know why it was given to me to read the secret parchment that the desert has so carefully hidden. Perhaps I have been called, or perhaps I have been chosen, beyond all personal will, for this silent mission of revelation.

In the end, however, the truth remains. To which, I humbly add, man will never be able to comprehend the immensity of the divine will, as long as the desert retains its sand, and as long as the sand, so faceless, swallows everything.

Leadership emerges when man becomes a witness, not a master, of his own mission, accepting that his power is conditioned by divine discernment.

Ultimum Verbum Divinitatis teaches us that, although man chooses, God decides, keeping creation under the light of eternal truth. And, needless to say, beyond any effort of control or planning, there is only one will, one truth: "only what is ordained from Above will remain" . In this way, we will be able to understand, one day, that we are not the authors of the ultimate destiny, but only passing witnesses, thanks to the divine judgment, which does not err, does not delay and does not submit to man.

As for me, I am only a desert scribe, called to decipher the mystery of the sand and bear witness to divine supremacy. Under the starry sky, I know that the last word belongs to the One who reads souls, and I am only an echo of His will.