Silence
The Silence Before Creation. On a visit to Athenian ruins, an arch gives way to the cosmos.
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Drifting off the marked path in the hills above Athens, the sun scorches your back. You pass scattered reprieves, shadows cast by monolithic stones driven into the grassy slope like teeth. A small limestone arch, half-swallowed by ivy, gives way to a descending corridor smoothed by forgotten hands. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. There are no signs, no ropes, no tourists. Strange, there is no cave on the tourism brochure.
The temperature drops with the descent. The air turns still. Not musty or damp, just silent. Completely silent. No wind. No distant birds. No heartbeat.
At the end of the corridor is a circular chamber cut into the rock. Polished. Unadorned. Perfect. Time halts. Your breath won’t fog the air. Shadows hold steady. There is a statue of a woman in the center of the room. Wrapped in dark veils that don’t move, even in stillness. She towers over the platform. Her presence immense. Like standing inside a mountain and finding it looking back at you.
Suddenly, the statue speaks. You have wandered far, child of hours.
She bends down from seeming vast height. As her face draws near, body warps, and then suddenly she is no longer a giant in a towering room dotted with stars. She is now a woman. Tall but not unbelievably so. Your eyes are even with her bosom. A view difficult to ignore, she reaches under your chin and tilts it up.
Do you know where you are?