Seeking the Light [Open!]

108 To go on is to go through. At last, even the seer is cremated. Each seed loves the dark for the light it promises. I sit in the silence and stillness of the temple, until suddenly I don't. Someone else is here. He moves like I do, languidly and without the physical limitations of the others.   Do I remember him? It is hard to say. He has a familiar face, but then again, we all do. Eyes, noses, ears...it is so alike. The patterns do not stay long in my mind. But perhaps I know him. Knew him? Will know him? The tense temporarily confuses me. But then, time itself is a confusing thing. "Do you think she values your sentimentality?" I ask, watching the way he presses his lips to the item and places it upon the shrine. The Voice does not require such things. We are her children and while I do not think that it is love that binds us to her, it cannot be something as mundane as DNA placed upon a babble. Can it? I rise and move towards him. There is dust on his hands from where he had touched books and shelves and I find myself wondering why. He can clearly see what it is beneath his fingers. Running my own fingers together, I feel the utter lack of sensation despite the fact that my mind is aware that I am touching something. But it has been centuries since tactile contact has cultivated knowledge for me. Perhaps he is not as old as I thought him to be. Or perhaps he has simply forgotten he is not human.