Tales from Sanoria

All photos by Aoife Lorefield unless otherwise specified

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The Astrolabe (A parody of “Ozymandias” by Percy Bysshe Shelley)
by Seeker Sophia

I once traveled in an antique land,
there a doorless lock doth stand,
above the stark and endless sand,
voiceless it to the orange skies proclaims,
“I am the key to all worlds,
to every where and every when,
look on me ye curious and despair.”


***

Note from the author:
A parody of the famous poem “Ozymandias”, by Peter Bysse Shelley. This is intended to be a lot less deeply metaphorical than it’s inspiration. I found the quest offered in Sanoria frustratingly tantalizing, but also loved the zone’s landscape and atmosphere. It put me in mind of Egypt, and that got me thinking of this poem.

-SeekerSophia April 22, 2017

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Sanoria waits - photograph by Lyr Lobo
Sanoria waits – photograph by Lyr Lobo


Sanoria Waits

Lyr Lobo

The Elder watched as they came, strangers of all shapes and sizes. With each step, they left their imprint on the land, and they tasted good.

The sands warmed beneath them as they trod, and they shifted, eager to touch bare skin.

The plants studied them, swirling tall with dainty rings that begged for a careless hand to rest against them.

“Come a little closer,” they said. But their words fell on deaf ears.

Temple garden on Sanoria - photograph by Lyr Lobo
Temple garden on Sanoria – photograph by Lyr Lobo

A wolf studied the temple, then turned to stand by a boulder. While the newcomers entered the temple gardens, he raised his leg to enjoy a moment’s solitude.

The winds cried out in dismay, knocking him off balance. A dust devil swept near him, chasing him away.

“Behave!” said the elder, whispering across the wind.

“Too soon” said the sands, as they settled to wait. Let the faire begin.

Touch me cried the plants - photograph by Lyr Lobo
Touch me cried the plants – photograph by Lyr Lobo

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The Winds of Sanoria
by Caledonia Skytower

When the winds blow on arid Sanoria, what does it mean?

A weary traveler, I listened to the voices of the winds. They were many and varied, each with a unique pitch and cadence all their own.

Boreas carrying the chill of reality – that moment when truth comes into focus and the illusions of self are shattered by what actually is.

Zephyrus gently coaxing to fruitfulness, bearing messages of grounded possibilities and the evolution of the natural.

Notus with the quick heat of passions and desires, threatening to carry all before it away in a whirl of what could be; ultimately destroying more that it creates.

Eurus the unlucky, that all creatures avoid; yet face in times of great peril.


I stood, the sands swirling around my feet, the ancient relics of a long-departed race scattered like a giant’s play things all around me. As I listened, I realized these voices, so different, all chanted the same refrain, invoked the same story, sought to teach the same lesson:

Time is a thing none may control. Your legacy is defined by what you leave behind, not by what you intend. Choose well, for no one knows what fickle time may be given. Love well, laugh often, be gracious and grateful. Strive to leave your legacy of joy as a remembrance to the universe that gave you breath.

A RFL of SL Event

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