The dying monk sits at the copying table. Carefully scribing the last pages of the lost texts. Healing prayers and songs, psalms and stories of the ancient ones, are all encoded by his shaky hand.
Outside, his world is on fire! War rages. Forests burn. This monastery will soon be ashes and rubble.
The lawyer stands at his crowded desk. Books and computer printouts block the window’s early morning light. Disgusted, he turns away. “There is no truth here,” he knows in his bones.
The magician stares into the crystal’s depth. His vision flies deep into the void. From this blackness, sounds emerge. Smoke and fire seem to surround him. Yet he flies on. Buried beneath a stone foundation lies the book he must retrieve.
No comments:
Post a Comment