The wind beneath your wings makes you soar.
You give in to your desire to fly, to find the secrets that the world offers, to unburden your mind and take a risk in the unknown. There is nothing out here, only you and the smell of rain. Clouds behind drive you forward, to examine your world. You are no longer in charge, driven by your instincts.
You finally see the world from a new point of view.
An Ancient Vision.
From high – you become a spectator to their play. They dance and sing, beckoning you closer with every rhythmic strike of the drum or bellowing cry of their song. They are unlike any you’ve seen before, performing their ritualistic dance to summon the rains and appease their queen.
They don’t notice their new visitant, while you rest among the tree’s branches, finding reason in the unknown.
You spend your day, your night, your week among these people, trying to garner some semblance of understanding. The queen rests alone, while her people orchestrate the world around her. Through them, she summons the rains.
You wonder how, where the possibility of such divine intervention weighs in.
But with the rains, you drift again, leaving behind the Ancient Vision. Your mind opens to opportunity and possibility – while an overshadowing force drives you forward.
A Mystic Valley.
Alone atop a mountain sits the architect of a grand design. He has been there since the origin of time, since the dream-time when everything was created. Overlooking the world below, the architect listens to his people.
In tune with the world around him, the spiritual and physical, he feels you beside him, resting on a rock.
He leans over, offering you a handful of crumbs to feed, while together, you ponder existence.
He teaches you, guides you, enriches you with his medicinal herbs, and leading you on a journey through the realms of time and space. You have no fear with him for he presents no threat. The architect of dreams wants to nurture an ever dying world.
And what of the world that surrounds this small island nation? The seers and mystics that sell the world their good deeds?
There are no answers to these questions, none in words. To feel and understand is where these secrets lie – he tells you.
When you’ve learned all the mystic has to prepare, you again leave his side. Hungry for knowledge.
You come to a halt, with the concrete forest forming on the horizon. Home, as you once knew it, but this is an empty husk with all you know now.
Through the myths and people you’ve met across your adventure, you know this place is forever a hollow reminder of what could have been. Men fulfilled by greed and desire to conquer the world live in these ivory towers.
Your journey comes to an end, on a tree planted in the artificial jungle at the center of this concrete forest – four sit singing their songs of revolution and peace. They are nothing like the kings who live on high.
They play their song, in style similar to the Ancient Vision. They invigorate you, their spellbinding sound locking you in place, listening in, while they fight the regime of ungodly power.
They are the embodiment of all you’ve learned, uniting the world with the wisdom passed down through the ages.
The walls of physical reality come crashing down.
…………..Breaching the outer limits of the world’s perception. Breaking down and reconstructing all that we know, all that we understand, and gearing us towards a new world, where we can stand as one with them.