The days flowed by like water. Swiftly the wheel for formations turned, and soon the cycle of examinations was upon him once again. Like ants, the child people worked. Like ants, the child people worked towards their goals, their individual desires, their eyes never wavering from that goal, that final perfection.
It was during this procession towards the end of days that a thought struck Uncletheddna. In the process of meditating on his sacred texts, he thought, wouldn't it be fun, wouldn't it be interesting to write his commentary verses in the style which the manuscripts were originally written? Wouldn't it show, wouldn't it express that he knew of the style in which it is written like the back of my hand? For what better way to show understanding, to show knowledge, than to produce an imitation, to reproduce the original?
His heart laughed at the thought. It would be a symbolic cycle, a renewal, a circle. It was karma, that fateful cycle of events, which would have the reader in the examiner, and the examiner in the reader. And his heart filled with delight at the thought.
This, o reader, are some of the thoughts which have crossed my mind.
Uncletheddna.
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