The Temple Throne
These are my Dream Diaries - records of strange places I have visited, and the stranger creatures I have met in trance and dream states. These records may become poems or even entire books. Which will step forward? I respect and value your opinions - your thoughts will help decide how and if this story will grow.
The temple’s broken pieces lie strewn like dice thrown by a giant hand. The stones seem to have fallen at random. Yet closer inspection reveals intricate patterns in their placement. Do the great sandstone blocks remember their function as components of the temple? Did they draw down the breath of heaven to fuel the ecstatic trances of the poets and mystics? Visitors fingers’ flex and move of their own accord, mimicking the geometric shapes created by the fallen stones.
The eroded temple stands all the more inspiring and dignified for the ravages of time. The stones still carry the memory of reliefs and etchings, records of histories, both mythical and real. They quicken the heart and heavy it with memories of triumph, loss, and regret. A central walkway remains almost intact, its bright mosaics clean despite the blowing sand. The tiles glisten in the setting sun, forming mesmerising images. Tiny glass figures guide visitors along the path. One can almost hear laughing and excited whispers weaving through the ever-present wind. Some hear voices calling their name.
The glazed path ends in an ebony marble throne. Its cold, silk surface shot through with white veins like lightning, the storm’s deadliest moment captured in the great seat. A statue towers above the throne. A sixty-foot high female sentinel crafted in lapis lazuli. Her wings span the breadth of the walkway. She is the work of a sculptor gifted with great skill and greater patience. Her silhouette mirrors the mosaics on the temple path. Yet she is a thousand times more beautiful and terrifying. Countless peacock eyes decorate her enormous stone wings. An eye for each soul who lived here, almost all shut tight. All who see her fall to their knees. Many feel fear and shame at her penetrating, judgemental gaze. Some hearts burst with joy and love for this creature of heaven’s fire captured in cold, unmoving stone. A few weep for this lonely sentinel who once enjoyed daily visits from pilgrims, warriors, and even young lovers confiding their secrets to her.
Many have made this long and lonely journey. Some have walked the mosaic path. A few have knelt before the statue. A handful have spoken secrets to her. Yet none have dared to sit upon the throne.
Did you enjoy this post? What stirred in your imagination? Please leave a comment below - I enjoy and value your thoughts. Like all poems, visions, and stories, this one will only find life when empowered by a reader. It needs your imagination and your vision.
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