[100 Challenge] Ocean_39

The completion of a major piece today.

Enduring through so many amnesias that have emptied us of our birthrights, and beneath the burden of so many modern anesthesias that plague our knowing, we come.

So much befell the people through whom we trace our blood. Generations of thread slipping through fingers, of forgetting what thread truly is and is for, forgetting how to bend the hand to weaving, forgetting how the tales were once spun. Our humble gathering no less. We are not spinners here. We are decendents of amnesiacs who left to us their dust. We no longer hail our ghosts, for fear of falling prey to their hungers. Nor were we born for tomorrow. And only with the utmost presumption might we claim in any way to be a continuance of the past—yet—we presume.

Here, beneath the constellation of the hourglass, we gather.

Here, among the cultural rubble of this decrepit age, we cobble together our shards. Shards exhumed at costs beyond our ken. Shards which glimmer with a hint of what was once blinding. A way of living from before the word escaped the tongue.