Rin Daemoko
08-08-2006, 02:40 PM
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Tiro! Él eria e môr.
I 'lîr en êl luitha 'úren.
Ai! Aníron...
We would grow a ship from the golden mallorn. Not build one by chopping and cutting, gluing and nailing, but it would be shaped from a living tree. So the ship would be alive, even as it sailed into the stars. It would grow the fruit and produce sap enough to sustain us, and we would sleep in its beds of leaves, nestled 'tween the roots.
And along our journey we would write and draw in a book all the wonderful things that we came across. At the end of our long travels we would reach the edge of the universe and let the book float into the stuff of creation. The book would come alive and it would write itself endlessly. It would never run out of pages or ink or inspiration, and although its pages would be numberless, it would appear to be no larger than a leather-bound tome.
Sometime later, someone would find our book and they would learn of our travels and of our ship, and they could spend lifetimes upon lifetimes reading the book and never finish it. It would contain not just words or illustrations, but understanding. The understanding of an infinite universe.
What would they call this book, we wonder?
Tiro! Él eria e môr.
I 'lîr en êl luitha 'úren.
Ai! Aníron...
We would grow a ship from the golden mallorn. Not build one by chopping and cutting, gluing and nailing, but it would be shaped from a living tree. So the ship would be alive, even as it sailed into the stars. It would grow the fruit and produce sap enough to sustain us, and we would sleep in its beds of leaves, nestled 'tween the roots.
And along our journey we would write and draw in a book all the wonderful things that we came across. At the end of our long travels we would reach the edge of the universe and let the book float into the stuff of creation. The book would come alive and it would write itself endlessly. It would never run out of pages or ink or inspiration, and although its pages would be numberless, it would appear to be no larger than a leather-bound tome.
Sometime later, someone would find our book and they would learn of our travels and of our ship, and they could spend lifetimes upon lifetimes reading the book and never finish it. It would contain not just words or illustrations, but understanding. The understanding of an infinite universe.
What would they call this book, we wonder?