Friday, 14 October 2016

The Angels of Oghma

The angels of Oghma are born not among the living but among those who have lived: sometimes, in a place where knowledge is gathered and stored and where it waits unused and unknown there will aggregate itself a narrow scroll, no thicker across than the wrist of a maiden and seeming to recurve upon itself always such that though the ends cannot be seen to meet, nor can it be seen to end. From the side, it seems, there is no scroll to see at all, and as it turns and drifts in the air like the fine hair of the drowned it disappears and reappears in different arhythms for each of its observers. Afterwards, no one can recall seeing any writing on it, but everyone knows something they did not know before - and no two who see the same angel seem to know the same novel thing after. 


Those who touch the scroll learn nothing, and unlearn all that is dearest to them.