LAYER 12: VOICE

Like candles on the ocean, lifted by waves hidden in the sky’s vast shadow, the stars loom overhead. Far above the sleeping village, far above the sleepless young shepherd who gazes upward, stretched out upon hilltop, hoping to catch in the eye a stray droplet of starlight. The metal poles that dot the hills produce their whirring that sweeps across the cool air of nighttime, meeting the ears of the young shepherd who assumes that the whirs are the songs of the stars. In a daze of youthful imagination, the whirring transforms into a chorus of celestial voices. The damp grass grows colder between the youth’s fingers, whose fidgeting comes to a halt inspired by a piercing clarity in the head. Infinity hangs above the earth. Dotted with holes. A light shines through. Who suspends infinity? Who shines the light? It is only one. The one who sees, and knows they are the Creator. 


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Knowing this, and being content to know all, the young shepherd drifts to sleep, carried off in the tide of fading stars.


Tucked away in the hills framing the horizon, whose curves are crowned in the halo of the soon to rise eye of morning, the Church of Tenully. Hidden away from the whirring of metal poles, a different song fills its airs, the song of the Organum of Tenully, whose pipes span the length of the Interforest, whose beauty of sound remains impenetrable to the forest wanderers that it enchants. Sounding constantly in flowing streams that weave through the gaps between trees and wires of the Interforest, begetting always a flux of resonance, feeding the River of Tenully whose crystal waters reflect in their metamorphosis of hues the metamorphosis of the Organum. Voices swirling through the Interforest convene about the Church and fuse into the Voice of the Prophet Tenully.


In an alcove hidden behind networks of shimmering vines sits the Hunter, who holds the shell to her ear. In this moment, only she knows the truth. That the Voice of Tenully is the wails of the dead, perpetually deprived of death by the breath of the bellows that fuel the Organum. She drags her staff near her, puts it to her mouth, and plays a sweet song to comfort the wailers, who pause their wails for just a moment to forget about eternal life.


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