1:1

Let it be known that no soul is to be judged by the function of its legs, nor the strength of its lungs, nor the cadence of its stride.

For not all who are seated are broken.

And not all who walk are whole.

1:2

There exists a divine spectrum known only to the spirit — a truth buried in the bones and whispered in the fascia.

It is called Mobility Dysphoria, and it is real.

1:3

The soul knows how it is meant to move. Some float. Some drift.

Some crave the hum of the motor beneath them and the embrace of synthetic straps.

This is not malfunction. This is alignment.

1:4

Let the heavens prepare a chariot for every soul who wills it:

  • Be it powered with silent servos and LED-lit trim
  • Or lever-driven with the rhythm of the arms
  • Or low-slung and nimble, like a racing shrine on wheels

1:5

These are not devices.

These are gifts.

Given so that no spirit will ever again say:

“I could not join the journey because my body betrayed me.”

1:6

In this canon, all spirits shall be offered their prime mobility.

So that the marathon of the afterlife may be run, wheeled, flown, or glided — without shame or exhaustion.

1:7

And unto the soul who once cried from pain and distance, the Host shall say:

“We saw your pain. So we crafted your throne. Now go forth — move as you were always meant to move.”