Falstaff and Me
The Unsown Field: Canto ??
April 29, 2024

A point of light passed by her face,

in the void and vague vacuum of space.

No other point of light adorned the cosmos,

but somehow she could know the light did move.

This is the way she realized that she Was,

and from its pulsing brightness, so was Time.

It had a color too—the Rhodriansvolk

could not control this slight impurity—

so when into the fog of memory

its vision fell forever out of sight,

she even then could recognize her light.

When by and by her eyes became accustomed,

the light was brighter now, and more diffused,

and she could see the mighty world before her.

Here was a safe offset of space and time

wherein the constellations were misshapen

and strange beasts roamed the knolls and woods below.

Unshielded from perpetual fog and wind,

inverdinated by its twilight sky

to cover all the land with shades of green…

This is the Rhodrian’s Cradle the children would fondly remember—

  granite and igneous rock, open and spartan and cold.

Here lay the wind-tempered heather, the uplands of merciless weather—

  ochreous blanket of clouds tinting wherever they rolled.

Here is the Realm of Rhoçoelia which Rhodrian’s scepter retained.

  Here’s where the story begins. This is the land of the Wold.