Took from tender sleep once more, far from soaring dream, incessant knocking at the door, and then the bright light's beam...
Toad flicked and flacked, and flailed at sky, without any sense of it, sought ought friends, in darkest days, the fire's ever lit...
But impermanence is pestilence, when e'er we feel sublime, one truth remains in resonance, we are consigned to time...
And fleeting, fluttering, fading days, spent shoulder to the wheel, time's lattice and it's dire array, shall not render unreal...
The grace that we create in parts, across these vibrant lands, commensurate sharing from our hearts, forget the dwindling sands...
With open eyes and an urge to pee, Toad gazed about the space, but among the ones that he did see, he saw not Sullen's face...
"Must arise, and must present," he muttered as he sprang, forth from dreaming's fundament, as dawning birds then sang...
At first he thought, the boy went out, to gather twig or shroom, and then was fraught, with fear and doubt, a rising sense of doom...
And then recalled as he squiggled through the weeds, the night before and the sowing of the seeds, of ideas when Sullen told him by the fire, what he'd learned the day before, "There's just one single way, despite fervent desire, to find old skyway's door...
And that's within, not e'er without, no matter desperate urge, forget times that scream and shout, from time we must now purge...
And live in peace within our minds, for all we hope to be, for ourselves, and friends in kind, we must set the spirit free."
At which, Toad took a cup of ale and drank and slurped, when the cup was dry he crudely belched and burped, his eyes rolled back into his head, as coherent thought from his mind fled...
"You mean that everything that went before, is somehow just a metaphor? In dreams create a skyway's door, for want of peace or something more?"
Sullen smiled and nudged his friend, then joined him drinking ale, "I'm not as wise as I pretend, ideas for me are pale, but i met a man who explained to me, this world's inverted dichotomy...
In relation to whence i'm come, the world is flipped... the moon, the suns, and since i was the one who came, any flight from here can't be the same...
Somehow that's what Keeper's looking for, i feel it in my bones, a means by which to be restored, or just to die alone...
He's on a quest to find his peace, in living or in dust, some means to join or be released, with, or from all of us...
And he believes the way i came is the way he must now go, to demonstrate to time itself the ways in which he's grown, but the man i met just yesterday, a silly man indeed, described for me in vivid scenes that which i now believe...
From deep within the wake of war, i dreamed myself the skyway's door, and there and then it made some sense, to move from where i'd too long been and make some recompense...
But dreaming doesn't work that way, other side of skyway's door, transcendence comes of what folk make through sweat, and toil, and more...
And here things are not always as they seem, even sky too often is or hasn't been, honest regarding higher states, and the means by which one elevates...
Eternal truths are like needles pricking skin, in times fraught with doubt and fears, one transcends the coil one's living in, by surpassing the Elder Tiers."
Toad asked just then "What does it mean, and who's this silly man, who said these words to you? And how are we to know that they are really true?"
The fire cracked and the two friends drank, the night sky whirring 'round, forgetting how they both then stank, forgetting creature's sounds...
In distance, or proximity, the threat remains the same, retain some equanimity, for people are to blame...
Sullen took his pipe and smoked it slow, "the man i met called himself Meadows...
Moss Meadows, sure as air, and he said the frame exists in there..."
Toad didn't understand, "In where?" he asked as he grasped the other's hand.
"In the State of Atropon, and it's there that i shall go anon, albeit not on my terms, but in the storm the seeker learns."
Toad peed a little where he sat, not sure just what all this begat, beginnings, endings, time undone, or had they unto the reckoning come?
Sullen winked at him just o'er the flames, for nothing more would be the same, and then went on to tell him tales, of irons within the world that wail...
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