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The Lament of Lost Voices
The Third Myth of the Creation
We are nothing.
We are no one.
We are not alive.
There is a common misconception throughout the universe, which states that the Void is a place of silence. It is a belief that creeps across cultures and tangles itself into the collective imagination of the innocent. You, too, have been touched by this thought at one time or another - it has tiptoed down your synapses and whispered its lies into your bones.
The space between the stars is the refuge of nothing, which harbours only an absence of noise.
The nothingness is empty, and it must, therefore, be silent.
This universal knot of fallacy occurs because no one is quite ready to admit that nothingness is, in itself, something. Neither is anyone ready to concede that the nothingness can shout. The darkness, however, is the loudest place you could ever imagine. It is the place where the Scorpion of nothing chases the Orion of everything across the amphitheatre of eternity. It is the battleground of Gods and the breeding ground of Monsters. Most importantly, however, the darkness of the Void is the place where all abandoned voices go to hide.
We are nothing.
We are no one.
We are not alive.
The third time the world began it was built by the Lost Voices, in their quest to feel alive. Pieced together in secret - stone by stone and sea by sea - the world was bound by the echo of a legend. It was constructed from the mystery of the Void, and upon completion, held captive by the peculiar confines of the dark.
There are many reasons why a voice may be relinquished to the Void. Sometimes it is severed by the suddenness of death. At other times it is left to rot in loneliness and disrepair. It has even been known for a voice to be rejected - purged in favour of a newer, more fashionable, model.
Once in the Void, the single lost voice becomes part of the amassment, clamouring through the dark as might a swarm in the open air. These are the Lost Voices of the Void: nothing, no one, not alive.
Unlike the majority of creation myths, there was no particular moment that marked the act of birth. The world was an idea without a source - a bittersweet declaration that scuttled without heed across the lament of Lost Voices.
We are nothing.
We are no one.
We are not alive.
We are nothing.
We are no one.
We bring life.
They sang the cacti into the sand, and fused with music the tumbling thunder of the waterfall. They gave legends to their human hosts, and buried skeletons of dragons beneath the mountains and the fields. The song tied the ivy to the trees and the lobsters to the sea. In the moment of creation, underneath an unknown rock, a newly-tuned cockroach nibbled at a flea.
The world was born in the noise and the ruckus and the nothing of the Void, and now, every time a human speaks, the Lost Voices raise their words in magnificent song:
We are alive.
This entry is inspired by the wonderful nialyind's Three Little Words entry.
I'd like to thank her for letting me build sandcastles in her sandbox.
<3
Read the rest of Cemetaria:
The Graveyard: One | Two | Three | Four | Five
The Library of Myths: The First Myth | The Second Myth | The Third Myth | The Fourth Myth | The Fifth Myth
The Traveller's Tales: One | Two | Three
The Second Library of Myths: The First Myth | The Second Myth | The Third Myth
The Third Myth of the Creation
We are nothing.
We are no one.
We are not alive.
There is a common misconception throughout the universe, which states that the Void is a place of silence. It is a belief that creeps across cultures and tangles itself into the collective imagination of the innocent. You, too, have been touched by this thought at one time or another - it has tiptoed down your synapses and whispered its lies into your bones.
The space between the stars is the refuge of nothing, which harbours only an absence of noise.
The nothingness is empty, and it must, therefore, be silent.
This universal knot of fallacy occurs because no one is quite ready to admit that nothingness is, in itself, something. Neither is anyone ready to concede that the nothingness can shout. The darkness, however, is the loudest place you could ever imagine. It is the place where the Scorpion of nothing chases the Orion of everything across the amphitheatre of eternity. It is the battleground of Gods and the breeding ground of Monsters. Most importantly, however, the darkness of the Void is the place where all abandoned voices go to hide.
We are nothing.
We are no one.
We are not alive.
The third time the world began it was built by the Lost Voices, in their quest to feel alive. Pieced together in secret - stone by stone and sea by sea - the world was bound by the echo of a legend. It was constructed from the mystery of the Void, and upon completion, held captive by the peculiar confines of the dark.
There are many reasons why a voice may be relinquished to the Void. Sometimes it is severed by the suddenness of death. At other times it is left to rot in loneliness and disrepair. It has even been known for a voice to be rejected - purged in favour of a newer, more fashionable, model.
Once in the Void, the single lost voice becomes part of the amassment, clamouring through the dark as might a swarm in the open air. These are the Lost Voices of the Void: nothing, no one, not alive.
Unlike the majority of creation myths, there was no particular moment that marked the act of birth. The world was an idea without a source - a bittersweet declaration that scuttled without heed across the lament of Lost Voices.
We are nothing.
We are no one.
We are not alive.
We are nothing.
We are no one.
We bring life.
They sang the cacti into the sand, and fused with music the tumbling thunder of the waterfall. They gave legends to their human hosts, and buried skeletons of dragons beneath the mountains and the fields. The song tied the ivy to the trees and the lobsters to the sea. In the moment of creation, underneath an unknown rock, a newly-tuned cockroach nibbled at a flea.
The world was born in the noise and the ruckus and the nothing of the Void, and now, every time a human speaks, the Lost Voices raise their words in magnificent song:
We are alive.
This entry is inspired by the wonderful nialyind's Three Little Words entry.
I'd like to thank her for letting me build sandcastles in her sandbox.
<3
Read the rest of Cemetaria:
The Graveyard: One | Two | Three | Four | Five
The Library of Myths: The First Myth | The Second Myth | The Third Myth | The Fourth Myth | The Fifth Myth
The Traveller's Tales: One | Two | Three
The Second Library of Myths: The First Myth | The Second Myth | The Third Myth