Book Idea, Treuth by the Rath of Spyrit

Here is a book idea.  It’s really one form for a constantly morphing story.  Certain elements are stable (like Treu), and others aren’t (like the title).

Tell the story of a young child named Rath in ancient Greece, or somewhere in the Mediterranean around 1000BC – 0.  He is raised in mythopoiesis by a bardish family.  But more concerned with stories laced in magic and reflection, and finally magic itself, he leaves in search of midnight mystery.  He is led he knows not by what into a misty forest at the base of cloud obscured cliffs after many years of solitary wandering.  He comes to a bearded child under a tree.  The being’s name is Treu.  Rath lives around Treu for many years, who knows how many.  Slowly, understanding comes to Rath concerning inner mysteries too subtle for everyday words.  A language must be born.  Rath wanders for many years, again.  He is drawn to working matter, alchemy.  Slowly he comes to understand and seed understanding concerning the nature of material.   How it melts, dissolves, combines, reacts.  The world churns around him, sometimes requiring his attention, largely content to be neglected by him.  But he constantly writes.  His writings blow through time like leaves in the wind, to fall to the ground and fertilize minds of a certain, shamanistic bent.  And so is seeded a technological revolution.  Suddenly, the stoney, wooden, fire lit workspace tucked in the outcropping of rocks and forest in Switzerland somewhere becomes the heart and soul of the essence of a global social organism tied together by industry and know-how.  Combustion and electricity are discovered.  Men reach to the moon.  Treu remerges from the emptiness into which he’d faded.  Rath can feel him active in the world, but can only sense obscured intent.  Then Spyrit floats on scene.  This trio and the world lead to technological singularity, the lapis philosophorum.

With a book like this it may seem to just be starting when it’s over.  Of course, one could sigh and say, “Bof.  ‘Tis the nature of the stone.”

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