A fierce whipping wind thrust me suddenly into consciousness, albeit a semblance. I was lying on an aery protuberance, jutting out onto a sort of transmogrified terracing of translucence. In the wind-speak, I could hear the voices of aeons gone by. Myriad images raced through my mind, as the inarticulations gushed forth from the violence of the blast. I had chosen this odyssey, and now I was facing the full brunt of its burden.
I had been on a long journey to the least understood parts of the earth, where I had experienced things mere immortals should never witness. It was summer here and rays beat down like drunken fireflies. Throughout the ordeal, I ardently desired to eject this body and return to my homeland. I had the power to do so, if I so deemed it. Fate, however, had prepared my way and I must perdure.
My gaze into the distant panorama revealed a land weary of aggrandizement and grandiloquence. A world is sensitive that way. The terrain was gray and barren. Yes, this world was a wasteland. The voices spoke of a time when all was green and vernal. The sun rose in the morning; stars in the evening. Those days were long past. As these musings rumbled through me, a misty stench arose from the desert floor, reminding me that I was only here for a brief time, thank the Gods. The harshness of this environment shook me to the core of my being.
A world worlds; that is what worlds do. When its inhabitants become its enemies, unworlding begins. Apparently, from what I had experienced thus far, this planet had seen the devastations of unworlding for many millennia. I wondered what this world was feeling, being at such a low point in its existence. Then, I once again heard the wind-speak. With many howls of agonizing despair, the actions of this world’s inhabitants were related to me in great detail. I was told how living beings of this world were senselessly slaughtered for love of something called “money.” This was a strange word to me. It had an evil feel about it. I listened for many nights until I felt I could endure no more. A record of the wind-speak had been taken and I was ready to depart. I spoke a eulogy to this world and bid it farewell.
This post has been read 1927 times!