Flower

Huginn: Today I see flowers, and each flower is an image of the world, a furled banner of eternity made small and fractal. Each ocean is a drop of dew, each grain of sand a continent. And all is enrapt in a cloud of light and shadow.

Muninn: There was once a time when the new-born world might have seemed that way. There were five petals, as always, and the rose which might have bloomed was a mighty one. But the flower fades, the petals fall, and in the end is nothing save the bare bones of infinity.

H: Must we hold everything up to the sun? Are we stalk and branch? Are we questing vine and tendril and pillar of cloud and fire?

M: My love, never forget we were indeed once cloud and fire, harbingers of the Power by day and by night.

H: It seems so long ago, and the flower... ah! the flower is fallen and the petals are dead, dead, dead. Doom, doom, doom, doom...

M: You are Thought, my elder by a fleeting instant. You are Thought, whom He made first. But I am Memory, and I hold all in trust against the coming of the dark. And I tell you, my love, Forget.