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Rated: E · Essay · Fantasy · #1488803
The nature of life



          They assemble. It is a ritual that predates memory.
         
          Preacher: How far is it?
          Acolyte:  We are here.
          Preacher: Where is it?
          Acolyte: It is everywhere.

          The assemble move about the temple in all directions.
         
          Preacher: There is no body here.
          Acolyte: Is there some place that will make the soul less thirsty?
          Preacher: Stand firm in that which you are.

          The temple is a skull.
          The assemble are ghosts.

          The skull whispers: I belong to an old spirit. I gave up life and
                                        now I notice I am a single note in a string
                                        that sings forever.

          Preacher: Who lifted up the mountains?
          Acolyte: Stay with me always.

          The skull lies in the sand. The wind whistles through its knoll.
          Nothing is forgotten. The spirit produces what nature cannot.+

         

          <+>
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