First stage is the darkest. It is a pet cemetery in thick black woods, filled with shadowy objects, foggy, wood sheds on every side. They look like goblins houses. Venial sins are buried here. Spirits live in tiny huts, visit travelers here. They appear out of the fog, carrying blades. They ambush, they cannot hurt though. They seek your soul as a companion in there empty misery. They only wield fear. They may have been good people once. Might still be. They have not reached the first resurrection.
Further up the hill, the shady woods end and beads of dew twinkle on long leaves of green grass in the moonlight. Here the first glimpses of the luminous city can be seen. It is an empty elevation. Lonely benches scatter the hillside. There are no ghosts here yet - only the desire of spirits to relive the sentimental moments of their lives past. An old spirit couple wishes to sit holding hands on the bench and watch the city. Only it is night, cold empty and the city far away. Here loneliness forces the traveler to confront past decisions and forsaken opportunities. A hint of a future opportunity arises out of the darkness with the luminous city further arising in the background landscape.
The lonely spirit hill fades quickly and the traveler arrives in a ghost town – a city abandoned. A cruel joke: a city of darkness. The land levels off, and the luminous city is no longer in view. Where is my opportunity, the traveler laments. As the neighborhoods reveal their walls and windows scattered lights are on in some homes. Rolladens are up allowing the traveler to peer into the intimate area of the residents’ lives. What do they do those hours by the dinner table, the fireplace, hearth? An old bearded man, is he an immortal, is in a motion of either sitting down or standing, inbetween chair and table, frozen in this glimpse. Bald spot, white beard, glasses drooping on the nose like an old drunk bird about to fall off its perch. Suspenders and flannel shirt. The spirit of walt Whitman? No Heidi’s grandfather, wise man. Lives alone on the dark hill. Where is the luminous city? There are only dark empty buildings here now.
4 comments:
I'm afraid I may have that very experience. Although most say they see light - always light and that you never want to come back. But somewhere in that future place, there is probably a place where our deeds, done and undone, will weigh heavy on our minds and darkness will accompany some of those memories.
Kind of a scary thought. You painted a fairly bleak picture.
Who is John Galt?
definitely bleak. I was one of unfortunate ones who was compelled by Kafka's stories like "the trial." Don't bother reading it, it is extremely bleak and a psychologically discomforting read. it's about a man who has a trial pending against him and he does not know what he is accused of nor who accused him. The whole novel is about his futile efforts to find out and attempt to defend himself. fun huh? i think this novel sums up the struggle and also points to a potential catharsis of not only the existentialists but most modern europeans today. To me the accuser is God, or his own conscience - same thing for this conclusion. had to take a break to clean the water bottles gabe pulled out and scattered all over the kitchen and now I forgot what I was going to say. I guess Kafka is why my mental imagery tends to be bleak.
As for John Galt...he is waiting for Godoh. I had to look that one up: read about Ayn Rand but never read her books. :)
oops, I am signed in from Nick's comp, it is Hans posting. PS Gabe did it again.
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