And the World Woke...

The world woke blinking, and found that all was well.  The trees were green and lush, the oceans teaming and cool, the mountains high and steady.  And the people were at peace.
            But peace was dull, the people found, and so the trees were felled, the oceans emptied, the mountains set to trembling.  All tumbled and came to ruin until the day when the earth stood still, for upon it lay nothing more than bones.
            The world woke again, and all was once more set to rights.  The trees were green, the oceans cool, the mountains high.  And the people were, once more, at peace.  Yet again the people found peace dull.  Down came the trees, up rose the oceans, trembling went the mountains.  And the earth was again barren.
            Then came a day when the world woke and found the pattern broken; for every place the world looked, the earth was set askew.
            The trees were scrawny, stunted for want of worked ground, the oceans were all tumult, and the mountains wrestled to keep themselves upstanding.
            And the people, this time, they set to work. 
Their aim was peace. 
And those who found it never thought it dull.

Popular posts from this blog

The Library at the Edge of the Universe

 There was, of course, a library at the edge of the universe. It was built to fit the space. That space, for the moment, was infinite. But it was the kind of infinite that was smaller than other kinds of infinite — both space and libraries are funny that way.     This library had an agenda. Most do. But this one's was more specific than most. It wanted to hold all the books in the universe, whether they liked it or not. And it got the books by poking and prodding the universe in all kinds of different ways, until it gave up the literary ghost. Well, all the literary ghosts.     So. There sat a library at the edge of space that housed all the books in the universe. It mostly sat, anyway. Sometimes it stood. Occasionally it stretched a bit. And on two occasions, yawns were recorded as galaxies doing a funny little seismic shift.     It might yawn again. In an eon or two.     Because it is waiting.     It's been waiting for an infinite amount of time. One of the smaller infinites
Read more

The Shadows

The light shown on Anya’s fingers. It curled around her palm and danced. This, she thought, was the sheer pleasure of having magic.       But in the midst of her play, a shadow grew.   It was not unexpected; it was the cost of doing magic, for it always begot shadows.   But it never ceased to offer discomfort.   If she could find a way to practice her craft and leave behind the adjacent darkness, she would.          Anya was not fond of the dark, or shadows, or of the sense of unease that grew whenever she let the flickering brightness dance.   But, too, there was a feeling of wholeness in her work.   How could that be, such fulfillment when darkness lay about her?   A constant wonder—the weight of it only born by extinguishing the light for a time until she could bear it again.       Today was such a time.          Anya took the light, and threw it at the darkness.   The next breath, and it was gone.   Elimination brought palpable relief, while at the same time she felt the loss of
Read more

As Usual

 Once upon a time, when the air was colder and the nights more dark, a fire gleamed in the distance.      It moved and crept and finally it swept, the whole world engulfed in it's flames.     When the flames died, all that remained was char. For a time.     Until the first shoot rose. The thought of fire died a death made only by forgetting.     And, as usual, the world went on.
Read more