There is one rule, and we do not break it. The sky is clear. Thin. About to pop.
Looking up invites blindness. The sky is clear. Entire worlds move underground. The surface is pitted, scorched. Purified in white-hot light.
“Do not ascend",” they tell us. “You must not rise.” It is ingrained. It is forbidden. It is… impossible. How could we? Where would it happen? Locks on all the gates. What is a ladder?
A child is born. Already blind. The next step. Cave dwelling has its consequences.
Skin pale. Translucent. Blind? Or without capacity for sight? No difference, maybe, to him. A childhood in darkness. A life in darkness. Is that any different, they ask, than anyone else.
Staring, one day. In the center of town. Town? A pit. A huddle. A collection of souls. A town.
Staring up. Gazing at nothing. For weeks. And then? Vanished. Forgotten. A momentary curiosity.
But not completely gone. Climbing. What is a ladder? Gates unlocked after all. The sky is clear.
Staring up. Gazing at nothing. Gazing at everything. Clean cremation. Purified in white-hot light.
Ashes.
And below? “Do not ascend,” they tell us.
“You must not rise.”
A latent legend. Inspired by a song.
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