Hymn to the Gatherer

When you reach the end of your journey,
after all of your revels and trials,
whether you have found peace or the end of a sword,
The world will leave you behind in its wake,
nothing but another shard of a past it has already forgotten.

The world doesn’t care about you.
The world only lives for the moment
And yours is fleeting.
But when your body shatters,
when your spirit can find no hold,
the Gatherer will claim you.

Every moment as it passes
shatters like a pane of glass.
We try to grasp at the smoothe edges of memory,
but they slip away into the Darkness.
They belong to the Gatherer.
She scoops them up, snatches them out of thin air.
She inspects every one, looking for clues.
In Her Museum of Time, She has assembled the pieces.
Here, She keeps the past alive.
What there is of it.

The world doesn’t care about you, but she does.
Or she might.
You might have to make her.
There are jagged edges to some pieces, too.
There are bits of the world that don’t fit together
There are bits of the world that are still holding on,
Always
Until the end of time.

Make the Gatherer care about you.
Live a life so interesting that once you Fall Behind,
the Gatherer will need your help
in putting all of these interesting pieces
together.