"THE TIME IS NOW,
THE PAST IS AN UNRELIABLE MEMORY,
AND THE FUTURE IS NOT YET,
SOME OTHER TIME?
THERE IS NO OTHER TIME,
ONLY NOW,
AND NEVER . . . . . ."

 

but . . . . what if today were also yesterday?
And tomorrow had already happened before?
Caught in a time-loop, the occupants of Urth repeating entrenched tendencies every millennium or so . . . . . . . .

A major conflagration; an axis-tilt, the world split into realms of light & dark.

Baaleesch, evil ruler of Darkworld sails to conquer the Pauper Queen of Lightland and her realm .... but a mercenary, tired of killing, sings, hard enough while evolving into another life-form. Vast battle-fleets sail over antigravity seas, psi-power weapons flare, and an Artist destroys a priceless painting to discover . . . .

But perhaps only a Unicorn knows the real reasons for the repetition of folly . . . .

 

Postlumo

"Chaos reigned in the beginning.

But the passage of time brought forth order,
and stability was temporarily upon the land.
Aeon passed.
Stability evolved into rigidity,
which, untended, gave way to brittleness,
and in turn shattered into chaos.

Such is the cycle of the world."

Erte p' Sonje
tender of the Mouth of Truth

Temple of the Order of
free speech and quest

A F T E R G L O

"It is now as has been before.

"A beginning time.

"New life in a new world.

"Your's is a time of your own making in a place of your own imagining, a dreamtime world kept in place by your own beliefs.

"But it was not ever so.

"It starts so.

"But; in time it runs to seed.

"It is the inevitability of the cycle."

The old man looked up at the mid-toned blue roof of the place and the long thin streamers of white that stretched thinly across it.

"You have learned, and your yearnings have exposed you to the Crux of things. You have stood apart in your learnings.

"The Urth-place is different now as a result of this. Sadly, therefore, the choosing time is upon you. Gone are the days of innocence.

"I will tell you a tale, as preparation for your Choosings. The time that follows the beginning time is a time of choosings and, eventually, a time of forgettings. It is a tale of lies, of truth, of despair, of hope, but above all, it is a tale of cycles."

The old man's bones creaked and he was wracked with pain but he paid no heed as he stooped from his sitting position and slid awkwardly off the circle of stone upon which he had been sitting until he was lying on his side in the dust beside the circular block.

"Help me," he said to his two onlookers, "help me brush off the sand." With this the two attentives helped him remove the layer of sand and dirt that had covered the circular block of stone until its surface was fully visible. The attentives stood back. It was a giant face, carved in a crude primitive fashion and possessing simple circular holes for eyes, a broad flat nose with deep nostrils and an elliptically-shaped cavernous mouth. A large crack ran from the top right edge and towards the centre. There were ill-defined areas, bumps, that may or may not have been meant to resemble hair. An irregular ridge ran all the way round the edge.

"Come. Do not be afraid." But the two hung back, unsure of what this meant. "Come. Sit around the edge and each place a hand into the mouth.

 

"Place your hands in the Mouth of Truth and I will tell you the Crux of things . . . . . . . . "

To be continued . . . . . . .