!ZjIqrT4w5M!!4oHYS6nEfRY 06/04/10(Fri)22:04 No.10281043|
rolled 5, 3, 2 = 10
Providence is nothing. The system it calls home is nothing. The spiral arm in which it spins is nothing. The galactic cluster that holds it fast is nothing. The universe, such as it is, is nothing. Everything that you can see, that you can touch, that you have any hope of knowing, is the barest speck in an ocean of sand. The physical world, though expansive, though larger than you can comprehend, is but one facet of an infinite jewel, one plane among many. The gods you know are not gods in truth, but mere spirits, as bound to their own minds as you are. The gods above them are just as well, and the gods above them are as all the rest. Beyond it all, on the highest planes, you may find, at long last, true gods, true power, true strength. But not here. Not ever.
There is nothing on this planet or elsewhere that compares to the light of the planes above. The stars are little more than dust, and the life of the most learned and accomplished human is less than an atom, a lone piece spinning in darkness. Below it all is the same, an infinite extension of planes, too many to see and too many to track. At the bleeding edge of reality itself, there are no gods that you can call gods, nothing that you have any hope of understanding. At the end of it all, the threads of fate that bind it all are yours to see and yours to feel, yours to grasp and tangle with, to seek and move and twist to your whims. Such is written, and has been written, since man has known to write, since man has learned to dream. One day, one day soon and farther than you can sight, it will be our own, finally and forever.
Thanks for 58 threads. Regardless of what happens here or in the future, I will always remember this story fondly.