I finally inhale the thick air with its damp aroma of warm sulfur. The ground beneath my feet moves with gentle subtleties as I peer into the white hot creator's vastness. I stand motionless, viewing this living...event. I am astonished at its life reflected in my eyes. I never dreamed the simple strokes of my pen could have such crushing consequence, yet retain an inner beauty as this. No life in the traditional form is visible. My leaves from earlier works have no home here. Heavy clouds filled with moisture are not welcome. Somehow, though, this all still ebbs and flows as a living being, moving me atop its back with little care or thought. My presumed significance is now in perspective.

Atrus, Shimar Age Journal