Blessed be the day for me and mine. All things shall heal in time. The sun shall forever shine on the world like a giant mother, watching and spreading her warmth. I feel I have fallen from the top of a great tree, through dark skies, and gnarled limbs beat against my face as I make my way down, down, down...into the fog at the base of this gnarled tree of life. Its roots are exposed. It's drying up and drying out. It's screaming into the wind at a pitch only other trees can hear. The Hollow echoes its pain through itself, deadening and strengthening the other trees simultaneously. Great oaks bark into the night. Maples howl onto the moon and vibrate their wooden words into the cold ether.
Which dimension does the voice get lost in? What cloud does the sound hide in?