Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Lena’s gaze softened, glancing at Lilliane. There were multitudes and layers of histories buried into each rock, each ruin, each stone, that even some of the most dedicated scholars and priests could even begin to fathom. The gods had created this world, had molded it, had conjured it from their beings and permitted them to remain. And then the Voice came – and did so many other cruel, callous things, that Lena didn’t know where to start. “It may be too far gone for that,” she smiled, gingerly, before her eyes went to the horizon, as if she could see past the clarity and clouds.
As for the war? Her fingers clutched the wood, drumming slightly, as if to alleviate the tension and apprehension suddenly stirring in her heart. “The Ascended, and the Voice, have committed many cruelties against many people.” That was what she’d been taught, how she’d been educated, how the books were dictated and written. “I don’t want to see the world fall apart, but something is going to happen anyway.”
As for the war? Her fingers clutched the wood, drumming slightly, as if to alleviate the tension and apprehension suddenly stirring in her heart. “The Ascended, and the Voice, have committed many cruelties against many people.” That was what she’d been taught, how she’d been educated, how the books were dictated and written. “I don’t want to see the world fall apart, but something is going to happen anyway.”
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
