*
…And he is not just horrible to us,
even the gnomes, that used to inhabit the Heart of the Isle,
fled to the coast to hurl themselves into the sea.
*
Some of the gnomes though thought better of it,
which was just as well really,
because through one of the holes in the sky,
when the sun peeked out,
we too made it to the coast…
*
There to be accosted
by one of the wisest of their number…
*
“You’ll never make it to the morn,” he said
rather dramatically, “unless you find
the way-stone.”
*
“And the way-stone is where?”
*
“The way-stone stands by the way
not in the way like the Old Man…”
*
“Well, that’s a lot clearer then.
At least we were right about the Old Man…”
*
“We’ve already passed the way-stone” said Wen,
“We’ll have to go back and ask her how we make it to the morn.”
*
France & Vincent 
This sounds like an interesting story.
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And as you are still here, or least my senses (which of course could lie) tell me you are, so luckily I think you found it. Thanks be . . .
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I did see some of the gnomes on the side of the cliffs by the ocean . . .
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I was thinking about seeing the gnomes, and it occurred to me. How can we imagine something if we never in reality have ever seen or known it in some part of life or somewhere we have been in this life, whether we are aware of it or not?
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A good question… 😉
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Reblogged this on Stuart France.
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