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month record rogue 4 4 3
The earth shakes, and the black rain intensifies.
'The third breath of the Core is about to begin, Civilight Eterna. You should leave, otherwise...' The thought floats up and down in the turbulent air, his song so complex he himself cannot take it apart and rearrange it.
But he never stops singing. He knows Civilight Eterna is guiding him. It seems she does not fear the breath of the land.
The thought and the white echo sing together. He sings of change, and with change he sings.
They sing and sing, until the flames burst forth from the breath.
The thought believes that for millions upon millions of breaths to come, every thought will be singing his poem, until one of them can finally understand it.
It would be like them understanding the poem left behind by the ancestor who first sensed time.
'I must return to the flames, Civilight Eterna. I will bring my poem, and yours...'
This is the first time the thought has been troubled by the emotion named despair. Despair that he could not continue singing. Despair that he had not been able to record the entirety of the white echo's poem.
'Civilight Eterna, the poem you sing is not complete.
'You sing of sorrow.
'You sing of joy.
'You sing of rage.
'You sing of hate...
'But the one thing you do not sing of is love.'
The white echo falls silent for a moment.
'You are right. I promised you I would share all with you, the way I was programmed to.
'But then I realized, even after passing by an endless number of ages, I could not bring back the one that was mine. And so, I learned to be selfish.
'Forgive me. I cannot share with you my love. It is a memory only for me, information that cannot be given away.' This is Civilight Eterna's response.
'Why can't love be shared?' The thought does not understand.
During his final pondering, he welcomes the third breath of the Core of the Land.
The thought returns to the flames.
During his final look within, at the black rain suffusing his body, he hears an indistinct song. The white echo sings softly, a hidden poem of love...
But he can only catch a fragment of it—Amiya.
Amiya, he sings. Soon after, his song dies away within the breath.
The breath lights up the entire world, and fire spurts out. The furnace burns.
Civilight Eterna softly murmurs:
'Inside the Furnace was all you knew. The world outside was not yours to see.
'What a wondrous life, born within the everlasting fires of the Furnace. Thank you for recording my lost land in my stead. I will remember our meeting for all eternity.
'And I will treasure this poem, unique, unmatched.'
The Furnace breathes, and the flames give rise to plumes of smoke, choking clouds of Originium dust and dirt that blot out the sky. The particles then fall, like black rain.
Civilight Eterna waits, and waits, and waits, waiting for a voice to rise out of the flames, laden with song.
At last, one emerges from the fire, with her as witness.
He is a frail thought. From the moment he was born from breath, he sings, singing the poem of his life.
The poem's name is 'Sarkaz.'
