The Book of Saavedro
The Book of Saavedro
Posted: Feb 27 2007, 04:19 PM
The Book of Saavedro:
A Poem:
Sirrus.
Impatient, angry
Not to be treated as a man.
Achenar.
Speaks only from feelings
Not scientific.
Unlike his brother.
Angry like his sibling.
They come to Narayan.
They say they have come to
Fix things.
No—
Not right—out of order.
Think, Saavedro.
Atrus.
Tall,
Handsome,
Calm.
Not angry like his sons.
Tamra carves
The Spirit Mask
From the Lattice Tree wood.
He comes
In the golden chariot
In the sky.
He watches as I play the pipe
The pink spore comes—
And is caught
In the net.
“That one,â€
He says.
“Should support
Your daughter’s room perfectly,
I think.â€
I remember.
I will not let the white fog touch me.
Not let myself succumb.
I will not forget.
I say that he will send me
His sons.
And now…
I wonder if that
Was good judgement?
Of course not,
Saavedro.
You saw
From behind The Shield.
No survivors.
Sirrus.
And.
Achenar.
They come.
I teach them,
But they do not listen.
They say that the Age
Had “instabilitiesâ€,
Holes in the world.
Would they lie?
Of course.
Everyone agreed.
Then the civil war began.
I tried to tell them,
Warn them,
Teach them,
That the trees were not being weaved.
But they would not listen.
Without the weaving, the Age shall die.
And so it did.
Chased them,
I did.
Through the J’nanin books.
I fell into the page.
And the poison snakes struck.
I was bound,
Beaten,
And tortured.
Then they burned
The Myst books
So I could not follow.
So I was exiled.
And then I began to die.
Just like the Lattice Trees.
Just like Narayan.
But I found the Book
That led to my torturers’ home.
And I found out about his power.
He could rewrite worlds.
His civilization was alive again,
And then…
I thought.
Perhaps…if D’ni was saved…
Narayan, too, could be revived.
By the weaving, Tamra.
This changes everything.
The End.
Posted: Feb 27 2007, 04:19 PM
The Book of Saavedro:
A Poem:
Sirrus.
Impatient, angry
Not to be treated as a man.
Achenar.
Speaks only from feelings
Not scientific.
Unlike his brother.
Angry like his sibling.
They come to Narayan.
They say they have come to
Fix things.
No—
Not right—out of order.
Think, Saavedro.
Atrus.
Tall,
Handsome,
Calm.
Not angry like his sons.
Tamra carves
The Spirit Mask
From the Lattice Tree wood.
He comes
In the golden chariot
In the sky.
He watches as I play the pipe
The pink spore comes—
And is caught
In the net.
“That one,â€
He says.
“Should support
Your daughter’s room perfectly,
I think.â€
I remember.
I will not let the white fog touch me.
Not let myself succumb.
I will not forget.
I say that he will send me
His sons.
And now…
I wonder if that
Was good judgement?
Of course not,
Saavedro.
You saw
From behind The Shield.
No survivors.
Sirrus.
And.
Achenar.
They come.
I teach them,
But they do not listen.
They say that the Age
Had “instabilitiesâ€,
Holes in the world.
Would they lie?
Of course.
Everyone agreed.
Then the civil war began.
I tried to tell them,
Warn them,
Teach them,
That the trees were not being weaved.
But they would not listen.
Without the weaving, the Age shall die.
And so it did.
Chased them,
I did.
Through the J’nanin books.
I fell into the page.
And the poison snakes struck.
I was bound,
Beaten,
And tortured.
Then they burned
The Myst books
So I could not follow.
So I was exiled.
And then I began to die.
Just like the Lattice Trees.
Just like Narayan.
But I found the Book
That led to my torturers’ home.
And I found out about his power.
He could rewrite worlds.
His civilization was alive again,
And then…
I thought.
Perhaps…if D’ni was saved…
Narayan, too, could be revived.
By the weaving, Tamra.
This changes everything.
The End.
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