"How do you know the language of this people from so long ago?"
She spoke it with ease. Every language says seek the Lord. Every lyric of nature, each stone if left to speak, says it. She entered the cave and went down to the depths beneath the sea and there she learned it, word upon word and bird by bird. What would she use it for? Only praise. The words were sorrowful, to her dismay, and she prayed for joy to overtake them.
She stood beside the great leader. He had once been mighty and fierce with an army, an empire! Now he was with her under the Earth learning the words of the past. Verbs, nouns, pronouns. They rolled off his tongue like a song. He recognized the melody, though the words were new to him.
She had become an old woman, wise and strong. But why be strong? What use is wisdom at the end of time? What is there left to do?
Rebuild, came the answer.
Stone by stone.
But why?
So you can live here.
So much had been lost. She couldn't see ahead even a few paces. If hope would appear here, it would have to come down from the sky and surprise them.
So she worked.
The stories of days gone by came to her and she wrote them down. All the math, that took a second. All the places, a minute. The names of animals and mountains and seas, a day and a half. People's names and the words of their hearts, that could not be recorded. A lie, discarded. The sunshine, remembered by all and easily recounted. It remained. Her gentle whisper, that was recorded by the trees. They hid it between them. How did she speak the language of the trees? Like this. Like a breeze.
Leaves, they described each one individually. That took one thousand years and a day. Each shade of green was duly noted, but brown was forgotten. There would be no mention or memory of death here or wearing out or age. But she was old! Old meant knowing and perseverance here, not aged, not broken down. Old meant that you remembered the stories.
Sweet was her sleep. The babies she held slept peacefully beside her. They learned in a quiet and unhurried manner. The stories handed down became theirs and they relished them and held them close. One day they too would be old, the babies and the memories. They would remember.
Nothing mattered but the good and the holy and praise. Nothing. It had all fallen away. Sorrow raged in her heart. The entire Earth had thrown itself away in the last war and she felt its needless absence. Though it didn't matter now, it mattered to her. She sang the song of yesterday, but today would not have it. It gave her now. Not tomorrow and not a day gone by. Just this moment. She learned to relish it.
