You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living. They see so little of reality, in their long dream. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely **?§§ and **?§§, I wish to tell them that they are **?§§ in the **?§§. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. The sorrow is part of its own private task. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality. Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.īut there are times it is sad, in the long dream. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.ĭoes it know that we love it? That the universe is kind? It has not yet achieved the highest level. It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of A million years old, and it still works.īut what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen. That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game. It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

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