The bursting fields of golden grain kept the last second before bending under the breeze in an eternity. Time did not exist in the Caldera air, it was only the melting August heat.

Strangers came to wash away the regrets of their unfulfilled desires, also called sins, on the yellow rocky cliffs of the island snapped in two by the volcano. It was long before the drowning of the first Atlantis.

The green of the sea hid away their lives and thoughts and made them feel reborn in a sweet fogginess. They thought they were happy for a few dropping seconds, as small as the distances between their fingers holding them together. They were so in love with this kind of lies.

At sunset, the thousand years old nun started singing the song of never ending truth, which had existed on earth when the gods lived among people. It was a song about a lost greatness.

It was a songs about the love of the mind, the love of reason.

It was a song of sorrow which made the waves withdraw, unraveling ancient ships and the ghosts of their captains. The dolphins would come from the abysses and cry with silver tears.

People leaned closer to the edges, drowning in oblivion because they couldn’t take the burden and the beauty of truth.

The walls of the untouched monastery were shaking under the golden veils of the Goddess forgotten on earth when all the gods deserted the human shores.

She was swimming with the whales in the sea of sirens and didn’t hear their call.

She would come out of the eternity of all her lives and braid her hair with the last rays of sun.

The cliffs were praying for her loneliness to cease and find someone to match her heights.

People tried to comfort her ego’s loneliness by snapping into dust at her feet and calling it love. They didn’t know that a real God doesn’t feed on sacrifice but on courage and strength and conquered cities.

She did not have the human weakness of crying. She smiled, hearing the echo of her long gone god kings.

She would stand tall, refusing to fight time, to acknowledge it, to be subdued to it. Pain was created by people, serenity by gods.

When she turned her face to the sky, the darkness that holds the universe would withdraw and those who dared to look up could see beyond stars, planets and galaxies, twirling around, dancing in a vertigo. The Earth turned naked with the purest minds walking around in their beautiful pride. Everyone was scared of such sight, walking freely in naked pride. There were no human kings left either.

She was the perfect face of carelessness facing pain. Humans hadn’t invented a word for such power, so, in their desperate abandonment, they wrote the twisted stories of gods being banished from earth. As fake substitutes, they took prayers, silences and submissions.

M.

 

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