Now they had unleashed the hounds the outcome of the chase was inevitable.
One shard of memory alone held hope…
Slipping into the museum without paying could only encourage capture…
The dark arches spoke of deep secrets too arcane to delineate…
Out of the shadowy recesses a thin form materialised.
Did that wan smile ever waver?
I stuffed the loose package between clammy fingers and turned to leave…
“Clavis!” she hissed, and disappeared.
Already the concierge was blocking my exit with his bulk…
Outside the wild yelps and bays rose in anticipation…
Was that laughter I heard amid the fury?
“We still don’t know how they did it, or why, or even if they really did it or not…
…We do know that for at least two thousand years these sort of monuments were a preoccupation, were the preoccupation of a world wide culture.
And then they were not!
The traditional supposition is climate change.
But there is another way to look it.
One that involves teleology…
And a change of state…
Amphibians can live in water and on land.
What would we call a creature that lives neither in nor out of time but somewhere between?”…
The gnomon holds a special position
in the annals of architecture:
It is to time what the fulcrum is to movement.
Would, then, movement be anything without time?
And yet, for the gnomon
to tell us anything,
we have to move around it…
shifting our perspective,
before the position
is finally shadowed forth…
Scryer of Time.
On sky weathered stone
our accidental tourist has stepped
through long horned, shaggy coated, cattle
to glean and ponder
the sun in rippled grain:
no shadow cast
from this bright interior’s sheen
the mountain top of yonder earth
Should an eagle become an egg
beyond that outer maelstrom
of troubled cloud
and return heather dusted
head space full
of truth’s sweet, fragrant lie
lipped to life’s cold scrutiny
in a fluid bowl of vision.
to ground and save us one and all:
Scryer of Time.
On one side a giant kisses the sky,
On the other a fore-finger, its hand buried in clay.
Yet should you ask, ‘why?’
There is no one left to say…
Can a sliver of blue heaven
Between hard rock face,
Answer the riddle
Set by time and place?
Could Sentinels of Stone point out the way?
Is there really such a difference betwixt night and day?
First it was a tickle,
Then it was a stroke…
As the pale sun’s disk
Caressed by bark
Slid down to earth
And then began to talk…
‘You enter this portal to
avoid traversing the dark.’
turn to tree
or was that just eroded memory?
Yet, if water turns to earth
and earth to fire
and air to water
by dint of long forgotten alchemy.
And if indeed
the Fire-King and Earth-Maiden
have spawned a beautiful daughter…
There may yet be
some fleeting semblance of hope
What weird science clothes us thus,
With overwrought fuss,
We pant and puff,
And toil away the year,
Collecting out worn cares,
When all is free,
Outside the mind,
Which holds the key.
The phrase was uttered as a prognosis as much as a question and so we smiled an affirmative, in relief, that we were not the only one’s to have been thus transported…
It is not by happy chance, alone, that one is brought here, although happen stance can play a part in bringing people to this beguiling, auspicious place, which is not a place so much as a state of being…
For those who have never been, it’s inhabitants are apt to appear forgetful, or inept, or even…foolish.
There are no machines of any kind in Cloud City, nor or there any contraptions…
Of what use is it then, and what possible good can come of it?
It was probably foolish, I know…
But I took a liking to this ‘little lady’.
Who, if the board is correct, could have been supporting the capstone’s weight for over six thousand years.
Which is some feat, as you can probably see…
We call it stone technology and we have been experimenting with sound in a number of these ‘chambers’.
I was expecting the chant to have little vibratory effect because the tomb was clearly, in part, wrecked.
What I wasn’t expecting was for both the sound and the breath to be sucked from my being, like something or someone was thirsty…
Like I said, foolish, but maybe it also served…