Wind-swept plains cover a stretch of land exceeding the extent of a normal man's gaze. Nothing but grass can be seen in the horizon. As one progresses, the plains seem only to expand in distance, creating a maddening effect on the human mind. Should someone venture into the eternal fields, he'd likely fall mad as each step proves fruitless in escaping his scenic hell.
Grasses dance in a frenzy at the behest of roaring gusts. The occasional flock of birds rides overhead on these winds, though their appearances could only be seen as occasional by a timeless perception. For any man, an eternity would pass within the days, weeks, or months between sightings; but the lands, wind, and sky see not through mans' eyes. To them, these infrequent occurrences appear simultaneously, ageless eyes permitting a patience that allows generations to pass within a blink.
In these fields, one figure does carve a way through the plains. He is young and dressed only from waist down, exposing a reddening back as the sun casts its glare upon the earth. Presently, the boy's mind is intact, but only a singular thought crosses it: "Walk."
This simplicity enables his sanity. To let a raw mind wander in an overwhelming expanse of time and space would inevitably lead to notions surfacing that would not serve his aim.
His aim? To walk.
His name? There is nothing such when one can allow only simple thoughts. To name the various species of grass would lead to naming the flocks above, would lead to naming the dirt underfoot, would lead to naming oneself, would lead to naming the looming outcome of failure in the great ascent.
A vision cracks the seamless horizon. In the immeasurable distance, the very tip of a mountain's peak emerges. A second thought arises: "Walk there."
