On Beauty & the Wasteland - v. / issue - Creation & Destruction
Creation & Destruction
A veiled woman stands before an entrance to a labyrinth formed from the tallest of hedges. She beckons me follow where the path leads. Within,
I find a beautiful formal garden with stone fountains and koi and lily pads in bloom. I feel refreshed and stop to bathe my feet in the water. I take a sip from the pool. I can see my reflection and the koi swimming at the surface — blue and tricolor. They move towards me curiously. I am fascinated by them.
And then I am afraid. The hairs on the back of my neck rise along with my shoulders. My breath shallows to nearly imperceptible. The ground is shaking like legs after a hard run.
I notice a crack through which the fresh water is leaking. I panic and wonder if I need to find someone to help me repair the foundation. Yet, I am clear this is not why I am here. I take a breath.
Even as I am scared, I am also fascinated by what I am witnessing. In fast forward, I see my Koi friends flopping, gills gasping until they stop flopping and stop gasping. Their bodies dry against the hot stones under a relentless sun, flesh flaking away in the wind.
I breathe consciously and watch deep cracks form in the barren, desiccated earth. Weeds tumble. A white marble monolith erupts towards the sun dominating the landscape.
I feel so angry. I rage. I raise my fists in the air and call upon every being I know for help. Beasts with antlers, claws, talons, fangs, poison. They all heed my call. Gales wail. Lighting ignites dry earth. Thunder shakes bones. Sand grits in my eyes in my mouth. All with no impact. The structure is unmoved.
I am exhausted. I feel immense futility. I can’t — We can’t. I collapse onto the earth and begin to cry.
As I cry, I beg for help. The other animals cry with me. Mother Earth cries with me responding to my pleas with a deluge of Biblical proportion. We all cry together. We breathe together even under water. Our collective sobs shake the earth, shifting, toppling the monolith, Eroding, consuming, digesting, reabsorbing this singular story. Sinking down. All is stillness, darkness, nothingness. Emptiness.
I am alone. Floating on water beneath a dark sky. I do not know how vast the sky above me is. I do not know how vast the waters upon which I float are. I feel rocking, undulation. And. Stillness.
I am stillness, darkness, emptiness.
I do not know if I am the emptiness of outer space or inner space or interstitial space.
Space after space?
Time before time?
Maybe.
I am a mystery.
I rest.
***
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