face.
From the gleaming light of his body can be sensed the preparation in the fields, the solitude of the hills, the wrestling with demons, the music of the lyre, the eternal youth of the spirit, the happiness with nature, the angels visible in the mountains at night, and the voice of the unnameable in every rock and flower.
From the anxiety of his pose can be sensed kingship and weariness and old age of the spirit, fame and sad wars, temptations into which he will fall, and from which he will rise, life without the music of the lyre, without angels in the mountains, and without the whisperings of the unnameable in the trees and on the wind.
The prophet-king stands between loggia and palace, between visibility and invisibility, never crossing the line, caught in that moment, in beautiful marble, forever.
6
And on a niche beside the palace gate, in purest stone, very small and humble, and yet encompassing the land with divinity, was the quiet figure of the great mother.
She was the lady of the mighty gate, protector of the land and its night.
7
He sat on his soft white bed, in the myth-soaked square, with its mood of ancient moonlight, and he was overcome with wonder. A strange yearning took hold of him. The sky opening above the square seemed a passage to the stars, to the dark universe. The brooding sky invited his soul to great adventures. He wanted to set sail again. He wanted to fly out into the mystery of that sky.
Then, while looking up, he noticed the most unusual thing. He noticed a sculpting which was itself invisible, and which became visible very briefly during certain moments of the day and night. The master sculptor of that land had long ago created a sculpting of the greatest Invisible of them all. It stood in midspace, just above the palace.
The levitating sculpture, finer than diamond, made of a material that seemed to be pure light, and yet as heavy as marble, rose higher into the air every year. It was a symbol and dream of the gentle master who had been visible to his followers for only three days before ascending into invisibility, and becoming one of the greatest forces for light in the spirit and imagination of the world.
He saw the sculpting high up in the air, unsupported. The light it gave off seemed to brighten the sky. He saw it briefly, and then it too was gone.
8
He was contemplating it all, very still, when he became aware of the bristling forms under the darkened loggia. When he looked harder, all he saw was the darkness stirring. But when he turned his head away he noticed for the first time that the statues of the loggia were beginning to move in the dark. He was so alarmed that he cried out in horror.
The night became still. Even the wind ceased.
The enchantment of the square suddenly changed for him, as if he had woken into a place whose horrors he hadnât previously noticed.
He stood up sharply, and listened.
9
At first, he heard nothing. Then, after a while, he heard a faint shuffling sound, and muffled cries of agony, as of a small animal dying.
He scanned the square, but saw nothing. The tiny shuffling noise continued moving towards him. He looked again, and saw nothing. The figures stirring in the loggia were still. The whole square was still, as if waiting. Then, just as he was about to sit down again, he saw it.
He saw it as a horrid worm, and as a monster something evil that had crawled out from under the perfect stones. The world swam before his horrified gaze and a dryness filled his mouth. For a moment everything went dark about him and when he recovered himself, with his heart beating fast, he saw the creature crawling towards him in the dark. Somehow, it became perfectly visible, a mottled white against the patterned ochre of the stones. With faint cries of distress, it struggled on, crawling with great difficulty, pushing itself forward with its broken wings, and supporting itself on its one good foot. The other foot was bent and broken. It twitched in
From the gleaming light of his body can be sensed the preparation in the fields, the solitude of the hills, the wrestling with demons, the music of the lyre, the eternal youth of the spirit, the happiness with nature, the angels visible in the mountains at night, and the voice of the unnameable in every rock and flower.
From the anxiety of his pose can be sensed kingship and weariness and old age of the spirit, fame and sad wars, temptations into which he will fall, and from which he will rise, life without the music of the lyre, without angels in the mountains, and without the whisperings of the unnameable in the trees and on the wind.
The prophet-king stands between loggia and palace, between visibility and invisibility, never crossing the line, caught in that moment, in beautiful marble, forever.
6
And on a niche beside the palace gate, in purest stone, very small and humble, and yet encompassing the land with divinity, was the quiet figure of the great mother.
She was the lady of the mighty gate, protector of the land and its night.
7
He sat on his soft white bed, in the myth-soaked square, with its mood of ancient moonlight, and he was overcome with wonder. A strange yearning took hold of him. The sky opening above the square seemed a passage to the stars, to the dark universe. The brooding sky invited his soul to great adventures. He wanted to set sail again. He wanted to fly out into the mystery of that sky.
Then, while looking up, he noticed the most unusual thing. He noticed a sculpting which was itself invisible, and which became visible very briefly during certain moments of the day and night. The master sculptor of that land had long ago created a sculpting of the greatest Invisible of them all. It stood in midspace, just above the palace.
The levitating sculpture, finer than diamond, made of a material that seemed to be pure light, and yet as heavy as marble, rose higher into the air every year. It was a symbol and dream of the gentle master who had been visible to his followers for only three days before ascending into invisibility, and becoming one of the greatest forces for light in the spirit and imagination of the world.
He saw the sculpting high up in the air, unsupported. The light it gave off seemed to brighten the sky. He saw it briefly, and then it too was gone.
8
He was contemplating it all, very still, when he became aware of the bristling forms under the darkened loggia. When he looked harder, all he saw was the darkness stirring. But when he turned his head away he noticed for the first time that the statues of the loggia were beginning to move in the dark. He was so alarmed that he cried out in horror.
The night became still. Even the wind ceased.
The enchantment of the square suddenly changed for him, as if he had woken into a place whose horrors he hadnât previously noticed.
He stood up sharply, and listened.
9
At first, he heard nothing. Then, after a while, he heard a faint shuffling sound, and muffled cries of agony, as of a small animal dying.
He scanned the square, but saw nothing. The tiny shuffling noise continued moving towards him. He looked again, and saw nothing. The figures stirring in the loggia were still. The whole square was still, as if waiting. Then, just as he was about to sit down again, he saw it.
He saw it as a horrid worm, and as a monster something evil that had crawled out from under the perfect stones. The world swam before his horrified gaze and a dryness filled his mouth. For a moment everything went dark about him and when he recovered himself, with his heart beating fast, he saw the creature crawling towards him in the dark. Somehow, it became perfectly visible, a mottled white against the patterned ochre of the stones. With faint cries of distress, it struggled on, crawling with great difficulty, pushing itself forward with its broken wings, and supporting itself on its one good foot. The other foot was bent and broken. It twitched in
Similar Books
