From a vibration came music of the limitless un-delved.
A quivering watery shudder opened all his senses.
Faint frequencies stirred a telling trope from far and he heard.
There. The land he would not enter, not only the dry mountain vista;
but that land unfettered by time, careening through space,
the people entering, burdened heavy with threat, laws and promise.
The vision swept past his life to the temple and scribes, the lowly and great,
past nascent trinity then logical ideas, ages of ignorance, silk road pilgrims,
classical wanderers, faiths of sword, sickle, apathy and hate, stone upon
In the land, the trees were severed, trunk from root, olive to date.
Seeds scattered on the wind, took root and were loathed in places they
loved. With no standing, they drifted. Where they took root and flourished,
they finished in smoke.
Their pregnant land waited.
He saw the survivors return, they planted forests in memory of, in honor of.
The people were running to become, embracing science, turning to defense,
medical advance, technical brilliance, musical genius, mystical chess.
The trees bloomed and fruited.
Milk and honey, land for peace, no peace, all given in stillness.
The land undulated in heat and unfolded what would be.
And he knew, as he stood by a water stone the instant before his death.
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