Through all
the Worlds are sounds, the noises of moving, and the echoes of
voices and song; but upon the River is no sound ever heard, for
there all echoes die.
The River arises out of the drumming of Skarl, and flows for ever
between banks of thunder, until it comes to the waste beyond the
Worlds, behind the farthest star, down to the Sea of Silence.
I lay in the desert beyond all cities and sounds, and above me
flowed the River of Silence through the sky; and on the desert's
edge night fought against the Sun, and suddenly conquered.
Then on the River I saw the dream-built ship of the god Yoharneth-Lahai,
whose great prow lifted grey into the air above the River of Silence.
Her timbers were olden dreams dreamed long ago, and poets' fancies
made her tall, straight masts, and her rigging was wrought out of
the people's hopes.
Upon her deck were rowers with dream-made oars, and the rowers
were the people of men's fancies, and princes of old story and
people who had died, and people who had never been.
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