Song of the ImmortalsWe are nothing new. We have been among you since the first of your kind, not yet your kind, asked more of the night sky than its directions. We are the trees which, falling unheard in the forest, make a different kind of singing. Do not look to us for secrets; it is you, not we, who hunger after knowledge. We are nothing mysterious. You have seen us, and not seen us, men of your kind, whose guarded eyes regard coolly, from ancient marble, all those who would tell us what we mean. Do not look to us for power: it is you, not we, who weaves the dream of mastery. We are nothing wonderful. We are those, without haloes or visible magicks, whom you have pushed aside in your chase after enlightenment. We are the unseen, who listen, and give, and yield nothing which might discover us. Do not look to us for salvation: it is you, not we, who importunes the oracle.