The Prophecy O
The Scroll
A golden grain of sand that unrolls into a scroll. An I within an O, that becomes a T, then an A. Finicky in the wind, hierophant of light.
"Lo and behold the Prophecy O, a technology of the toad Gale…" Elumo spoke honestly, as the he and Eluma drifted away ominously… Odie slowed his run, now taking only tiny steps, for Odie was winded and out of breath. He observed the golden spec of sand, which made it grow into a strand. He pinched the ends when it unrolled, revealing a small golden scroll.
Within it displayed, an I within an O, that became a T and then an A. The symbols began to disappear, but as Odie blinked, so wrote the seer;
"Nothing becomes something, it's in its very nature," when the paper made a feather, which disappeared into the aether. "Creation is the dharma, of the formless living substance," when the paper made an inkwell, that was consumed by an airborne fungus. "Love's denial of expression, is the eternal tragedy," when Odie eyes began to tear, thinking this really speaks to me. "Destiny's a page unwritten, if only you would just…" When the prophecy was gone, whisked away, by a gust.
"Face it Odie, you're fat. There's no shame in admitting that." Odie threw the Prophecy, feeling shamed and disgraced, but a gust of wind blew O right back at Odie's face.
"Take this place, and make it yours, taking care, shan't be a chore." Odie gripped his belly, and conceded O was right, with such a squishy tummy, he'd be doomed in a real fight.
"Take a walk, just look around, remove what need not be, once it's well and clean, we'll organize, thoroughly." Scattered throughout the rooms, heirlooms and dusty books, cutlery, burlap sacks, clothes and tools to cook.
"Every time you leave a space, make sure it ends up better, how could you not succeed, if the world becomes your debtor?"
With great loathing, Odie took his first step, when O delivered another message, before Odie could even take a breath. "Start with intention, and bring that feeling before the first dimension." Odie visualized a wondrous potato shack, free of debris, trash and overgrown grass.
"Once the spirit is deep and unconscious, take action with certainty, the Certain Way is flawless." He cut the grass with the Prophecy, but O was a finicky tool, after just a couple slices, the wind would take it from the fool.