I went down to meet Zarathustra and to hear him speak. I’ve heard tell of him before. I went to the stone in a cave where he has meditated, but there was no one there. I sat, defeated and weary. I’m not sure why I came. The people in the market square only laugh at the mention of his name. I wandered out of the cave and looked up at the sun.

I felt his words meander through the air. I began to see patterns and waves within them. They circled around me, fracturing and recombining. Letters splintered to create shapes and characters. I stood in awe, watching the world be created, destroyed, and reformed in front of me.