Like our ancestors, we seek the Song. We speak with the darkness. We try to remember the wilderness. Like our ancestors, we await the Return. It was foretold that seven stars would fall from the sky, seven trumpets would sound, and seven scrolls would burn. The people remember, but have forgotten why. The people seek, but have forgotten how. The people journey, but have forgotten where. Who now lives who can give the people what they desire? Who has the burning desperation, the numinous will, the holy terror? The walls call out for sacrifice and the Tower doesn't cry at all, not anymore, not since She left and came back and left again forever. We await Her return, praying only for the strength of Her will and the knowledge to carry it out. We have waited forever, we have waited the length of a solitary sorrow, we have waited the blink of an eye. Faith remains, though desire has withered. Faith remains, though wisdom has faded. Faith remains, though nothing else does. Unlike the last time, it is enough. Like it was for our ancestors, it is enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment