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"Beneath the cold stone sky, deep within the earth, the driftwood people gather. The way is lit by everbright lanterns, spun glass housing the shining blossoms of the tree we call The Silver Sun.
Today is a special day. We do not often return to The Sun, to its Root, but one of our number has rejoined The Chorus, and so we gather. We remember. Their lantern is cracked at last and their body is consumed by the flame of it. Those of us who mourn deepest take up their stories, echoes kept in singing beads and drummed into ready flesh.
Our voices rise together, and tree and stone and rippling water respond in kind, transforming our grieving choir into exultant symphony. Through it all my voice cuts loudest, ripped raw from my throat. My arms are weighted with strings of heavy beads and my back aches with fresh whorls of ash-ink. I have never been without the guidance of my father, and I do not know how to go on."
A piece created for Light Grey Art Lab's World Roulette show. My prompt was Cave System + Wood (resource) + Archives Obsessively + The Good Fight (era)