...and not the gods
Dim remembered 'mongst the gods of eld
are the beating of the drum, the trilling and sighing of flutes, the tinkling
of bells in the vastness of night.
Dim remembered 'mongst the men of earth are the gods of eld. Forgotten,
as the sands of the desert forget the winds which move them.
Dim and shadowy are the ways of the time of eld. Then the gods were the
gods, playing the Game with lives of men.
As a turbulence, a wind arose 'mongst the great peace of eld. Men became
wise in their own eyes. And men paid no more heed to the gods of eld.
A prophet arose and cried:
"O ye people! The gods of eld are forgotten and the people are forgetful.
Hear thee the voices of the gods of eld. Listen to the winds, waters and
falling rains. Listen to sunrise when morning hails the coming of day;
and sunset, when evening adores the onset of night. In all things listen!
Hear the lost, quiet voices of the gods of eld."
But the people heard him not and rebuked him, saying:
"O thou who knoweth not, fool! The trees are the trees, and not the
gods. The waters are the waters, and not the gods. The winds are the winds,
and not the gods. Think ye we are blind?"
The people, being wise in their own eyes, know not wisdom. They see only
what they know and know only what they see.
For they have long forgotten the gods of eld. Yet, the people being wise
in their own eyes, have made them new gods in their own likeness.
Gone are the beatings of the drum, the trilling and sighing of flutes,
the tinkling of bells in the vastness of night.
Gone are the remembrances of the gods of eld.
©2004 by Daniel Kemp, from The Book of Night