He stood up and moved through his endless forest. He wove his way throughout the trees floating over the snags and roots caught in his path. He wandered for a long while, up through the hills to the far ends of his land down in the tide. He made his journey through the sands of time till he decided to descend from his land above down the ladder of his mind past the borders of knowledge and the walls of the unknown, beyond the limits of consciousness. He reached the bottom of his ladder and as he backed away it rose from the depths leaving him behind. As the ladder ascended he looked up as the passage to his land slowly closed with the ladder’s retraction. The gateway grew smaller and smaller until there was nothing left of the door that had led him to this place. He looked around examining the endless void in which he had arrived. He did not know what to do. He did not know where to go. He did not know. He was awakened by the sound of the great gong. He looked above and saw it. The great time piece that kept watch over the abyss. The gears and cogs so vast as to move the mechanism with such fluidity that it sped through the cycles. The indecipherable numerals stayed constant within the endless orbit of the clock’s appendages. He looked up and then looked about and decided he would build a still, a still to slow down the time. Into the darkness he plunged his hand and pulled a stone from the void. He placed the stone down beneath the great time piece then returned to the pile of nothingness from which it came. And then he placed another then another. He slaved beneath the reign of the great time piece for an unknown epoch whilst the great bell tolled above. He never broke, never faltered under the weight of the stones from which he built his still. He went on and on building the massive column. One stone on top of the other foundation to the top. An equilateral, quadrate that had risen from the ground up. And with each stone the great gong slowed. It slowed. Yet the cycles of time never broke their rhythm.
After a while two orbs began to dance about his still. After tedious amounts of slavery he made progress and soon his still began to grow with more orbs joining in. His column rose it made its way up from the depths to great time keeper above. And the cycles still remained constant however slowed. The column grew up and up till it grazed the bottom most reaches of time. And as the time began to slow even further, the task of building the still became ever more difficult. Then, when he knew it was finished, when the time had slowed, when the still had risen, He ran his hand across the column, His column, His still, and in a flash of light that coated the Great Still, He knew it was complete. But, what to make of it? What to do with the Great Still? But, He knew deep down that the Still would be the one to answer his questions. So he remained in the all encompassing nothing where he built His column, the column to slow down the time. And so in his long wait he stayed in place, in hibernation waiting for the answer to his question. His question was answered when the Great Still became a great window from which he could see. And with his eyes he saw. He saw with his eyes the world that was.