Tollers stopped short. “Jack, a myth can be true on more than one level.” “Yes,” Jack said. “A myth tells a truth without the facts. You do not have to believe it is true to see the truth. In this, we agree, but myth is still myth. It is not something to believe in!” They continued their walk as the trees turned blue in the shade of day’s end, and the birdsong quieted and the creaking sounds of night began: branches rubbing in the wind, wings flapping the air. Jack sensed a deep longing, a personal echo he’d heard all his life that told him truth waited somewhere near.
