The tale cries out from the fallen and the others taken by the angelic tide in the rapture. We float in the ether, swimming weightless with the speed of thought. The tears for us are shed by the remaining. They will leek in the trembling tumult of a wasted planet spun in war. Some have touched, others have graced the other omnipotent level and have now remained to give guidance and nurture the possibility of survival. They, the watchers and wanderers of this vastness hunt for the hope that is inherent in all living things. It is sought beyond the trials of a lost existence. The risen from the other land remember and are grateful for the change. They frolic with things to see and do rather than be held in the purgatorial amniotic fluid of nothingness.

This legend speaks of one possible future as the forgotten stand against Apollyon fighting the human wasps that bite and sting. It is a disease of the eternals. There are rumblings of another birth like the one that came before. There is a parable saying that this is beginning again, and as before, only the just shall receive and all others shall wait.

I have heard the tale of this fatherless bastard birth. One who walks the desert wastes preaching a brand of truth no one truly accepts. The cities are beginning again. So too are the Pharisees, the governors and the ruling class once again casting judgment against the pagans. There are the changes happening, but they are slow to be realized. Once they begin there is no telling the absolute direction of this wilderness frontier.

Language is now babble. A divine mishmash of all so there can be no barrier and also no connection. Education and knowledge arrive at birth now, and the child determines the direction the spirit wishes to declare itself. The greatest gift is that the druids have returned like moles from the earth rising from temples where they have been hibernating. This time they come without religion or belief. This time they arrive simply as fact. There are those who have connected with the earth itself and tell their fables to the animals and people alike. They understand all monuments that have remained, have reconstructed and built new ones. If the understanding continues the only religion will be communication. It will be a separation between those that choose to and those that choose not. Most of the aristocrats choose not to address this in any form. This will only amount to so much control until the people cry stop.

Cities were abandoned overnight as the pilgrimages suddenly began, leaving the aristocrats to their own ends. The hope is that they will begin to understand and choose to speak one day. Unfortunately, they arrived long before the Druids returned and they thrive on the domineering of others. The greatest trick the universe pulled is granting the knowledge and awareness that there are more of us than the ruling class. They day we learned that, and accepted it, the tide turned.