Atlantis
I remember the day so very clearly. For all seemed so peaceful, so perfect, during every second of the minutes before. As though the pinnacle of a world, of a civilization, had been reached and no further progression was possible from there. Perhaps that was the case. Maybe that is why things transpired as they did. I do not know. I shall probably never truly understand. I only recall a sensation of the closest thing to nirvana that I had ever felt. And it is that state of perception which I try to re-enter, even now, whenever I wish to transport myself back to times of old, and to one of the most precious places I have ever called home.
———————-
The water ripples almost indiscernibly in the pond underneath the two marble pillars and the long, marble rectangle which they support. A few soft, heart-shaped flower petals float gently across it, towards the water flowing over its edge and down into the pond just below. In total, there are three levels of water. All are of exactly the same dimensions, separated by only a few inches of cascading water. Above them, the tall structure acts as an entrance way to the building beyond. A tranquil introduction to a much greater marble construction, of the same colour as the initial gateway – a shimmering gold encrusted with specks of crystalline silver and cream. I pause for a while, never tiring of this view as I enter one side of the city. A small bird, one that I have often seen here before, descends from who knows where and lands at the water’s edge. Reaching down to sip at the water, the cerise feathers on its chest get a little wet and it shakes them to remove the excess moisture. The rich, royal blue of its tail feathers shines as it fans them out to full effect. The sunshine yellow of its wings is so bright I have to cast my eyes aside for a second, before I cannot help but look back towards it. Looking up at me briefly, it makes a sound like a crystal bell chiming before flying off. My gaze floats upwards, watching it as it disappears into the distance. Such encounters are one of my favourite parts of living here and when I look back, this is the last such one I recall, so it has a special place in my memories, and my heart.
As I walk alongside the pond and under the gateway, I notice that although dawn has only just broken, the sky is a shade of striking turquoise and completely cloudless. It is frequently so, but for some reason it attracts my attention more than usual today. Passing through this entrance, I feel the same energy permeate my body that I have always sensed when arriving in the city. Its warmth and levity are like a soft cocoon that wraps my whole being in its embrace. As I approach the immaculate building that stands in front of me, the energies heighten and I feel so light that I believe my body could actually float up and away before ever making it to the spectacular entrance portal. Fortunately, I remain grounded, and as my bare feet leave the soft grass, the cool firmness of the marble under my soles serves to bring me back into my body. I raise my eyes in awe, as ever, at the expanse of ornate carvings in the roof above me. This one contains a plethora of geometric symbols arranged in a pattern which extends from a central spiral out to small zig-zags at the outermost edges. The whole design being fashioned from the same, coloured marble makes it subtle, but all the more impressive. However long men spent fashioning this masterpiece, it is the work of years, rather than weeks or months. As I glance back down, a young man walks towards me on his way out of the building. He holds his hand up slightly to acknowledge me and I feel the amicable energy of his presence as our physical bodies cross paths and his aura intercepts momentarily with mine.
I continue to walk through the large archway from which he has just emerged, and on into the corridor that extends for a few metres before another archway leads me through a large hall whose floor is covered with a mosaic of the most delicate design. Enclosed in an outer circle whose perimeter touches each of the walls is a scene depicting an enormous tree of life with various small animals sitting or playing on the ground below it. The whole scene has been created with sparkling crystals of every colour of the rainbow and as I walk across it, I begin to feel a tingling in my feet which slowly moves up my legs and along the length of my spine before reaching my crown. It is a pleasant feeling. One of energising excitement. The crystals always have this effect on me and as I reach the other side of the room, I marvel at the power of the building, and all of the rooms within in it. Having walked through them since I was young, I know that each one is adorned with a different form of artistic expression. This one, however, has always been my favourite. For there is nothing I feel closer to and more enthused by than art depicting the natural world.
I turn to look over my shoulder quickly as I leave the room, taking in once more this creation which is so representative of all of the unique creations throughout the city. And then I make my way through another archway, into the sublime garden full of immaculate, colourful blooms which has always afforded me what I consider to be the most beautiful views of the city. Ready for my day’s work, I take in the panorama of the city. Every tiny aspect of its ringed layout, from the central palace and temple to Poseidon to the bridges connecting each concentric ring of land. For some reason, today I linger that little bit longer, my eyes pouring over every detail. Taking a deep breath, so as to inhale the maximum amount of the subtly fragranced air around me, I once again quietly thank all those who have created my city with such love and diligence over such a long period. Starting the journey down the steps which will take me right into the heart of the city, I focus my eyes on the ivory roof of the silver palace where I have worked since the initial stages of my education were complete. The temple. I look forward to another day spent there and all of the gifts which I know it will present me with.
———————-
The Golden Age in which we currently live has been in existence for an extremely prolonged duration now. Some say almost a hundred thousand years. It is hard for me to imagine a span of time that long, as it is much beyond what I can imagine in my own mind. This beautiful epoch has endured owing to the spirituality of the priests, priestesses and the Sons of Light – sometimes known as the Sons of One – in our city. They help to ensure that as a populace we remain pure and in oneness, enjoying psychic and technological powers which make our daily lives ones of serenity and joy.
I myself am one of these priestesses, although I am younger than some of those I work alongside. Through my work, I have learned the extent to which our civilization has been successful owing to the seven spiritual laws that govern humanity. Whilst they are all interwoven within the practices I engage in, my primary focus is the Law of One, which is represented by the great temple itself. This stunning edifice illustrates the fact that there is no separation between any living being and the Divine. Its presence proclaims that we are all part of the whole and our actions affect every single creature in every part of the universe. I feel this notion so strongly throughout our city, but even more so when I enter the temple each day. As I undertake my work, I am filled with a connectedness to everything immediately around me as well as all things elsewhere in the cosmos and it is this which empowers me to be able to enact great feats of my craft, as I know that I am destined to help my civilization retain their respect for the laws under which we live.
Crossing the threshold of the majestic building, I feel ready to rest after such a long walk. I am thankful I do not have to cover such distance every day, but I have spent a week in extreme contemplation at a small sanctuary on the outskirts of the city. It is from there that I departed in the early hours of the morning, ready to resume work at the temple.
“How was it?” I hear a voice behind me ask as I settle myself down on a large cushion in the chamber in which I often work.
Turning around, I see my mother, Helen, who also happens to be the Priestess who has been responsible for most of my training.
“Mother!” I stand up and run over to her, our arms pulling each other in for a close embrace. “It was wonderful. Truly enlightening. I feel at complete ease and am looking forward to doing whatever the gods now bid me as a result of my heightened awareness.”
“I am so pleased.” My mother holds me away from her and looks me in the eyes as she smiles. Her long blonde hair, which is almost as long as my own, flows down in waves over the loose, white material which covers her shoulders and her sapphire blue irises gleam. I am amazed once again at how youthful she looks given she is almost three decades older than I.
“Oceana, would you be able to help me today? There is something special I wish us to work on.” Sensing a slight change in the tone of my mother’s voice, I look at her with concern.
“Is everything alright?”
My mother lowers her eyes for a moment, before raising them to meet mine once more.
“It would be an untruth to say that everything is as it should be,” she replies. “However, that is the reason I would like your assistance.”
“What has happened?” I know my mother, and whilst there is no sense of urgency or distress in her voice – she is too well trained for there to be – there is a hint of both in the energy she is emitting. “Mother, please tell me. Otherwise, I will have to intuit.”
Familiar with my intuitive abilities, my mother knows that it does not matter whether she articulates her thoughts verbally or not, so she decides to share a little more. “All is not well in Atlantis, child.”
“It isn’t?” I am somewhat surprised, having expected this least of all the things I had been preparing for her to say. Discomposure over my brother’s insistence on engaging in his metalwork almost without sleep had been my first supposition. Not something that relates to our entire city. “But in what way? Everything certainly seems well to the eye,” I remark.
“Appearances are often deceptive,” my mother begins. “And sadly, in the case of our city, what is presented outwardly is in conflict with what many are feeling inwardly.”
“People are not happy here?” Again, I cannot hide my shock. I have visions of our fine harbours and canals, the city’s walls and gates decorated with tin and bronze, our irrigated crops which supply abundant food, and the golden statues standing just outside the temple. That anyone could be discontent with such a level of comfort is unfathomable to me.
“Not everyone, no,” my mother explains. “Despite all that we have here, there are many who wish for more.”
“More what?” I think of our fountains with their hot and cold water, our bathhouses, our gymnasia, and all of the domestic animals who act as such loving companions. How could anyone possibly want more?
“More possessions…and power.” I look at my mother, my quizzical glance evidencing that I still do not quite comprehend what she is saying. “There are some who have become avaricious and are not satisfied with the blessings that we behold.”
Taking my mother at her word, I am suddenly compelled to ask her why this matters.
“Because their desires are unjust and if the gods continue to observe this state of affairs, they will likely punish them.”
“Punish them? But how?”
“That is what I do not know, Oceana. And to prevent us finding out, we would do well to use our own skills to see if we, the Sons of One, can redeem those souls who have chosen to belong to the Sons of Belial.”
———————-
From the time I began my formal training at the temple, I have been aware of the Sons of Belial – those souls who choose to indulge in lust, envy, cruelty and greed. However, I have always believed them to be souls who inhabit places beyond the confines of our cherished city. My mother’s revelation therefore leaves me without words for a short while. “They are here amongst us? Living in Atlantis?” I finally wonder aloud.
“I am afraid so.”
“Then we must get to work,” I say decisively, “to help them truly appreciate what they have.”
“I am not sure it will be that simple,” my mother confesses, showing me with her eyes that she feels sorrow at this. “But we must try. For the sake of everyone in our city.”
“What do you wish us to do?” I ask, unsure as to how we may best take action.
“I would like us to work on sending light into the city, to those places and individuals where it is most needed.”
“To counter the darkness?”
“Indeed. For it is only light that can ever really brighten the shadows.”
“Then it is that which we must issue forth.” I smile at my mother, in an attempt to lift her seemingly downhearted spirits. “And the more of us the better. Let us call upon the other priestesses to assist us in such an important task.”
My mother gives a nod of approval and I touch her forearm lightly in a gesture of reassurance before leaving the chamber to locate more priestesses.
Within a very short space of time, having found and explained to the other priestesses my mother’s concerns, I return to the chamber and my mother’s face lights up as we arrive.
“Bless you all. You have come.”
“Of course, Helen.” Luna, one of my mother’s oldest friends, places her arm around my mother’s shoulders. “This is a burden you need not have carried alone. We are all here to support one another, and the city.”
“Thank you, sister.” My mother indicates the circle of large satin cushions which she has placed on the floor and invites us all to lower ourselves onto them. Once we have, she takes the hands of the priestesses on each side of her and we all follow her lead.
“Dear sisters gathered here today in the name of the welfare of our great city, our revered civilization, may we send out light to everyone and everywhere that it is needed in order to combat the darkness that exists in our midst.” Closing her eyes and bowing her head, my mother begins to breathe slowly and deeply, in and out. We all do likewise, and for a time there is nothing but the sound of our breath and a lustrous, white light beneath the shutters of our closed eyelids.
———————-
It is a few days after we have issued light out and across the city when one of the priestesses, Sofia, comes running into the chamber looking alarmed.
“Sofia, what is wrong,” I ask, placing my hands on her upper arms to calm her.
“It is not working,” is all that she manages to say, before she is overcome and I feel the full weight of her body start to bear down on me. I sink to the floor, so as to enable her body to fall softly with me. Manoeuvring her legs so that they are slightly raised, I sit and hold her until she comes around from her fainting spell.
Luna, who is walking into the chamber to begin our work for the morning, sees what has occurred and hurries out before returning with a glass of water. “Here, sip this,” she offers, crouching own and placing the container and its cool contents against Sofia’s lips. Our sister takes a tentative sip, before she gulps down a subsequent mouthful.
“Th-thank you,” she says, looking up at us. “I was just so startled.”
“What is it?” Luna gently coaxes.
Raising her eyes until they meet Luna’s, Sofia begins to speak and then stops. Seemingly gathering courage, she tries once more. “I was in the city,” she whispers, “and I saw a group of people fighting.”
“Fighting?” I blurt out. I cannot help myself. Ours is a city which has been home purely to peace for my entire life and thus the concept of discord or conflict within it is one which I find hard to contemplate.
“Yes. They were in the distance, at the end of the street. As I watched, I saw soldiers coming to keep them apart.”
“This is highly unusual,” Luna comments. “Perhaps you are confused in what you saw?”
“I wish I was,” Sofia sighs. “But two women beside me observed it as well, so I know it was not my imagination.”
“Why would people be fighting?” I ask innocently. I really cannot summon any idea of what might cause disagreement between citizens in our city.
“I do not know,” Sofia admits. “But it was so unpleasant to witness. Afterwards, as I was walking away, I heard two men say that those fighting were the Sons of Belial.”
I gasp, once again not being able to contain myself. I think back to the day my mother had called us together and her reasons for doing so. Although we had worked to try and alleviate the risk to our city, it seems clear that it persists. Before I have a chance to propose that we unite to send out more light, Luna has suggested that we call upon my mother and the other priestesses again. “More work is needed to counteract this threat to our city. This is what we were trained for.” And so begins our more regular attempts to call in light so as to maintain the peace within our city which we all value so greatly.
———————-
I have been taught that the light will always outshine the dark. And so it is. As a child, I had thought this meant that the light would always ensure a happy ending in which everyone lives in peace and harmony. And so it is. The innocence of my youth, however, had hidden from me the fact that sometimes to arrive at such a state of bliss requires the dismantling of all that does not align with this. I would not wish to have known this sooner, as I believe that all children deserve a childhood of innocence. Nevertheless, the moment when we each discover the reality of the interplay between light and dark in our world is one which we rarely forget. And it is one which often leaves us yearning for a naivety we were unaware we possessed, until it is lost.
As the days pass by, despite our concerted efforts to bring the dark elements within our city back into the brightness, a sense of foreboding overcomes me. One morning, upon leaving my home, which is close to the city’s inner circular hill of land on which the temple is located, I find myself walking towards a small, tight-knit group of people who are talking animatedly to each other. As I pass them by and wish them a good morning, a man on the edge of the clique calls out to me, his voice louder than the others to ensure everyone can hear. “Tread carefully, daughter of light, for within this city the dark wields great might!” I have been trained to a level of emotional mastery that permits me to continue walking without acknowledging either the man or his words. On arrival at the temple, however, I can feel my heart begin to beat faster and I take a moment to myself in the grand entrance hall. Kneeling down on its refreshing marble floor, I moderate my breath and ask my higher self what this encounter might mean.
Atlantis is in danger. This is the only message I receive, without further details as to what this may mean. It confirms to me, though, that the anticipation I have been experiencing is not without cause. “Mother, what is to come?” I ask hopefully, as we join together once more with the other priestesses to form a circle in the chamber and send out more light.
Helen’s face suggests that she too shares some of the unease that I do, although she does not say as much out loud. “I am afraid I do not know, Oceana. The only certainty I have is that we do well to send as much of our love out into Atlantis at this time as we can.” A couple of the other priestesses nod their heads in agreement. We therefore link hands once more and immerse ourselves in a state of stasis to focus on combining our light energy and ensuring it reaches every part of the city.
When we have finished, we replenish ourselves for a short while, sharing events from the past few days. Another of the priestesses explains that she has seen people arguing with some frequency and this emboldens me to recount the occurrence on my way into the temple. The other priestesses all listen quietly, before my mother speaks on their behalf. “Oceana, daughter, it pains me that you have received this treatment in our beautiful city. And yet, I believe those words serve both as a truth and a preparation for us all.”
“Is Atlantis in danger?” I ask, wishing – although I know it is not necessary – to have my own sentiment confirmed.
“It is, yes,” my mother states.
“And is there more that we can do?” I ask, in the hope that there are new tools we can use, new methods that I have not yet been taught.
“We can surrender and let go of what we cannot control,” my mother says quietly in reply. And as we all remain seated in silence, I think to myself that this is indeed a new tool that I can practise implementing. But it is not the one I was hoping for.
———————-
Over time, the instances of unusual and unexpected behaviour amongst our fellow citizens become more widespread. It is hard to describe at what point it feels as though the home I have adored since birth has disintegrated, for in any city, a downturn is rarely overnight. There is a slow and measured decline which, once it reaches a tipping point, seems impossible to return from. Such is the situation in the civilization I have always been so humbled to be a part of. And yet, as I am rapidly learning, it is the gods who oversee what goes on here. No mere mortal can override their rule. And it is to the gods that I attempt every day to be an honourable servant, as do my priestess sisters. So I must trust in their plan, irrespective of its outcome, for I know that their aim is merely to reinstate the light that reigned here for so long.
It is time to leave. Go soon.
It comes to me in a dream and as I awaken, I am not sure whether the words I have so clearly heard are fragments of a memory from another time or a warning that I now must heed. Until they come again the following night. And then I am sure. I tell my mother of the message I have received and she reassures me that I am not alone.
“We must all leave, Oceana. And our role is to give others the opportunity to do the same.”
We therefore begin, secretly at first, to share our beliefs with those we hold most dear, from extended family members to the council members who invite us to work with them. At first, some do not understand our sense of urgency. However, they cannot dispute the events we make reference to. And those who are also Sons of Light come to appreciate that to secure our future, it will be necessary to leave behind our past, even though it means wrenching ourselves from our home.
As our confidence grows, we begin to spread our beliefs more widely. It is at this point that we meet considerable resistance. Some – including friends – who we have been certain belong to the Sons of One confront us, asking how we can possibly talk of leaving the city. They say that we are fearmongering and speak on the basis of nothing. Others, who we are less sure of, go as far as to discourage us from imparting what we believe we know to others. They fall short of threatening us, but make it clear that they do not welcome what we are trying to do and suggest that we stop.
“Perhaps we have told enough people, mother,” I say one day, after speaking to an elderly senator who I have been treating after the loss of his wife. Despite knowing of his fondness for the finer things in life, I am shocked when he informs me that I will grow out of my childish fancies of justice, equality and compassion one day.
“This world is not a fair place, Oceana. Those who learn this fact are best placed to act accordingly.” His meaning is not entirely clear to me, but the tone with which he speaks tells me all that I need to know. If not one of the Sons of Belial, then he knows of them and seems unaffected by what it is that they are doing.
My mother does not agree with me. She is of the opinion that it is our duty to keep sharing what we know to be true until the day we ourselves leave. And yet, I find it so hard to speak a truth that so many claim is fallacious. At times, it leads me to question my own belief in what I know to be true. Out of respect for my mother and her wisdom, though, I continue to try and advise others, knowing that my conscience will be clear when the day of my own departure arrives.
The backdrop to our dissemination of what we believe to be the future for Atlantis is more and more agitation and aggression, which only serve to support our intuition. Some citizens, mostly men, begin to seek justice as others steal from them. Complaints about the greed of certain already wealthy individuals circulate on a daily basis and we are powerless to do anything but listen and watch. I imagine that what I am feeling must be akin to the experience of a solitary ant upon the realisation that its colony is on the very verge of tumbling down. I know that the value of my home lies in the constructive, combined efforts of the collective. And yet, I feel so small and insignificant that I can do nothing to prevent the harmony of my own colony, my city, from fracturing more with each passing hour.
———————-
The sky is no longer turquoise on the morning that I awake having dreamt simply two words:
Leave now.
It has been a gradual process, but the sky has become a dull, pallid shade of blue, with puffs of pale grey occasionally passing across it, like vague clouds that promise, but do not deliver, rain. Over breakfast, which has now been reduced to simply a mug of herbal tea owing to my loss of appetite, I ask my mother how she has slept.
“Not well,” she admits. “I believe we will need to make good on our decision later today, Oceana. Gather what few things you can carry and after leaving the temple we will begin our journey. It will give us a number of days and nights to make our journey up into the hills on the mainland beyond the city.”
The day passes slowly and I find it hard to concentrate. Eventually, just before dusk, our duties are complete and we return home. There we collect our belongings and place them in bags woven from strong hessian. To reduce their weight, we permit ourselves only light clothing and shoes, and the odd necklace, plus our work tools – the majority of them crystals. I hold up the picture of my father which my mother drew shortly before his passing and hold it aloft.
“This?” I question.
“Of course,” she responds, smiling. “It weighs nothing and your father would never wish to be parted from us.”
I roll it up and tie it with a piece of satin ribbon before placing it safely between my dresses and the inside of my bag.
Within a few minutes, my mother is locking the front door of our home, and as darkness falls, we are able to make our escape, joined at the outer circle of the city by the other priestesses.
As we begin to walk up the gentle gradient of the hill beyond, I turn back to look at the final stretch of water which I will cross for I know not how long. It still glistens in the deep blue of the night sky but lacks the shimmer that for so long the stars cast upon its flowing surface. Looking upwards, I see no stars now. Perhaps it is just this night. Or they too may have shone for the last time, just as the colour of the daytime sky I had known for so long is now no more.
We make our way onwards for a few more hours before stopping to rest overnight. Warming our bodies with the addition of more clothes from our bags, we huddle together and eat the pieces of fish and fruit we have brought with us, wrapped in protective paper so as not to soil the remainder of our belongings. As we sit in the valley between the hill we have just climbed and descended, we are protected from the elements, although the night air feels particularly still. I turn and look up towards the hill that we must ascend come morning, wondering what is on the other side. I have hopes of the ground – which is dry and stony in the main, with just the odd patch of softer bracken and grass – leading us to some other kind of settlement. Maybe it will be one where we can rest awhile and contemplate the next stage in our journey, I think.
Sleep comes fitfully, and dawn is barely upon us as we get on the move once more. As we climb further and further up, we are able to see past the brow of the hill we have already scaled and I find myself looking over my shoulder often to catch sight of the city we have left behind. Inwardly, I am curious as I notice that the sense of peace I once knew appears to have returned. I take a breath of the fresh, morning air and find it fills my lungs with further contentment. It is a little warmer than it was overnight and I am thankful that in our part of the world the temperature rarely becomes cold. We walk at a slow pace, to prevent us tiring and so that we may talk amongst ourselves to keep our moral high. To voluntarily leave one’s home with the very strong feeling that those who have remained behind may be in danger is not an easy choice. It is one born of trust in our own intuition and the ability to think of oneself and make decisions we might prefer not to. Ultimately, it is an act of authenticity and self-love, for we can all only do what we feel is for our own highest good. Every other mortal is entitled to do the same.
Some of the other priestesses, whilst not doubting the need for our departure, speak with concern about those who we were not able to convince to join us.
“Did we…did we do enough?” one asks hesitantly. She is still young and although very capable, questions her own inner knowing at times.
“At some point, enough must always come,” my mother explains to her with kindness and understanding. “Another hour, another day, there will always be more time we can spend repeating the same action. But inside, we reach a limit, a moment when we feel we have to stop, for our own well-being. It is important for us to have faith that we know when that time has arrived.”
The younger priestess looks at my mother with relief. It is a common trial for the young to have to learn when and how to give, without causing detriment to themselves. I am only a little older than my priestess sister so I feel nothing but compassion for the inner turmoil she has been going through. “Remember the day we were taught that every soul is here for their own lessons?” I remind her softly, as our feet fall into the same rhythmic pace.
“I do,” she replies.
“Those who are not with us are simply on a different path. We planted seeds, but where they did not grow, it is because their soul is guiding them towards the teachings they are most in need of.”
The young priestess looks relieved once again. “Thank you, sister.”
“You have nothing to thank me for. We are still mastering the lesson that we can save no-one but ourselves.”
———————-
We continue in silence for a short while and the serenity and sparkling sunlight which surrounds us takes me back to life in Atlantis as I was growing up. Each day was so peaceful, so precious, so perfect. It feels good to experience this once more, even if it is away from the city, from my home. I inhale the happiness of the moment and savour it spreading out to fill every cell of my body. My whole being feels instantly lighter, euphoric and full of the exhilaration that I used to feel so plentifully in Atlantis. It is as I think fondly back that a sound similar to thunder erupts from the other side of the hills which are now behind us. It is so loud and unexpected that it causes us to stop in our tracks and turn on our heels to see its origins. The clouds over Atlantis have turned a deep shade of grey and look as though they are about to release a tremendous storm. In my whole life in the city I had never seen the air over it this colour, so I stand transfixed.
“What is-?” begins one of the priestesses, but her voice is cut off by the sound of a crash which can only be described as almighty. It is of a magnitude that only the gods could be responsible for. The earth we stand on shakes violently underneath us and we all fall to the floor. Once the movement of the ground beneath us halts, we are all grateful for its supportive firmness. The sight that confronts us, although many, many miles away, leaves us trembling and in need of solidity. In the initial crash, the central island of Atlantis containing the temple – our beloved place of work – and the palace, has come tumbling down, sinking into the now tumultuous waves of the sea below. There are gasps of shock as the focal point of our once paradise-like home disappears into the depths before our eyes. One of the priestesses beside me lets out a scream and I crawl across to her on all fours, not feeling able to stand up. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and allow her to sob into it, clearly devastated at what she is witnessing. I look across to my mother and catch her eye as she tears her sight away from the destruction before us for just a second.
It has to be, my child, it has to be. The gods do what they know to be necessary.
Her words reach me through telepathy. There is no need for speech. We both look back at what is unfolding before us and as we do, another crash, so deep in its roar that we bend our heads down into our knees to protect our ears, travels across the sky and sounds as though it might rip our world apart. As we lift our heads up again, the two circles of land which have surrounded the central island of our city seem to rock momentarily and then splinter, falling apart and being engulfed by the waves all around them. We are too far away to hear the sounds that the citizens who have stayed behind must be making. It is not hard, however, for our imaginations to fill in this gap. I bury my head back into my knees, unable to tolerate the sight any longer. So many of my friends, and even some of my extended family, have remained behind. To witness this means of their lives ending is too much to bear. I find I cannot face any more than I have already observed. As visions of my city falling apart and being swallowed up by the waters beneath play back over and over again in my mind, I feel tears wet the delicate material of my dress, leaving small, damp imprints on my skin below. My body is still. My sobbing is silent. No one questions why I remain in this position for a considerable period of time.
———————-
When I think back to the moments before all I had ever known was lost in an avalanche of land and water, I always come back to the peace. The inhalation of cleansing air purifying my body and enabling it to reach a state that was so blissful. For it was the last time I was able to feel that way so completely, so profoundly, so sincerely. A mere moment, and although I was no longer a child, what remained of my innocence was seized from me in the most excruciating way. To have known peace, however, makes it possible to rediscover it, fleetingly, and sometimes for slightly longer and more reassuring periods. I make it my mission to do this whenever I can, as a testament to all that my home permitted and taught me.
I have much to be thankful for. I am still breathing. I came to Earth to experience every facet of life, even those which tear the heart apart. Indeed it is they which have helped me to develop most as a soul. The sweetness, the purity, the light is after all only recognisable in its fullest form when one has tasted the deepest dark. So whilst I mourn – I will always mourn – one of the homes I most cherished, I am also replete with gratitude for being able to reside there and for being here to tell the tale of its demise once it had taught me all that I needed to learn. The gods have their reasons, of that I am sure. It is my trust in them that enables me to remain optimistic about the future of our planet. Where the balance risks tipping far away from love, harmony and unity, I now know that they will do everything in their power to redress it.