Friday, February 25, 2005

Stone Temple Violet



The headless spectre parades the glory streets of Saqqara. Her bony framework propped upon the only medium of mobility on gravel carpet. She travels and yet does not move. Her hand desperately clutches the tablet upon which is etched the thousand virtuous deeds of her lover. This is 'her' story.

They pranced about in desert fields all day. He lay her down in one of the many beds on the plain. Hands traced her soft and luscious contours.
"Would you like to watch the ceremony tonight?"
"You said you'd leave the sect just so that we would wed in handfasting"
"Tonight is the last night. I will conclude my reverence after one final ministerial"
"No one leaves the sect until death."
"I will and I will leave it alive, to be with you."

They depart but only after he whispers his loyalty in her ear and plants its proof on her nape. They both leave after a solemn promise to meet each other that nocturne, to leave the village and move away from the undeterred condemners, of the sect.

She goes home and prepares for her last night here. She remained austere too long for her parents, her family, her religion, herself.

The community sleeps as if in quietus.

The covenant entrusted to the supreme pontiff states the regulations and the forbidden.
What he had done, was forbidden...
That is all they want to know. They see treachery in his words, his deeds and his thinking. He should be castigated in front of the sect and its congregation.

She races toward the apsis in the sanctuary. His decapitated head lay grotesquely lorn. Not a drop of blood was evident within proximity of him and his body. Beside him lay the covenant of the sect - now closed shut.

She turns to look in the direction of the beheaded's gaze and now she knows what is to be done. If they were to remain each other's, this would be the only riposte. His words seem infallible now. Afterlife is forever...would make love eternal.

She picks up the ivory tablet, walks to the instrument of execution and lays herself down as he would have. All around her expanses the lush sandscape and stars of black night.

She now traverses the glory streets of Saqqara. She embraces the covenant. She sobs for an answer...for she is one short of a key to her amnesty. Can anyone hear her tears and take heed? She wants to leave Sheol...she wants to open the covenant...

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

It dint make shit sense... but really well written.. way to go Shakespeare