I am Eternity, He says,
The giver of light and shadow on your journey,
Mine is the voice in the bleakness of the night of confusion,
One that carries you across chasms of fire and desolation.
Hear me Seeker of Secrets that tantalise,
Tear apart notions of Selfhood,
For you are but one imprisoned in flesh and emotion,
Seek to understand that which lies within,
And discard all foolish yearning.
Who do you think you are little orphan of Earth?
Where do you think you are regent without a throne?
I see your Heart and Soul,
See them blaze like dying stars bleed their last,
Yet, all is not lost, without purpose and vision.
See how they quiver, yearn to save their children,
As Life emerges from Death,
Walks through flames of immolation.
Again I ask,
What is it that you seek?
Take my hand and walk with me on roads of no return,
Step between the worlds and enter through silent doorways,
Glance at what lies between,
Cracks in time that yield all and nothing.
Witness things not meant for the living,
Only for the Becoming.
He pauses, waiting on her answer. Having come this far what else is there to do? Go with him, regardless of the consequences. He opens his hand and flings sand in the air, grains of time, unceasing in their flow and rhythm. The Storyteller feels a tugging in her heart, its whispers sound so vulnerable. The Great God of Death and Transformation sees and hears all, soothes the fearful heart with gentle tones. Her hand reaches out to his and they clasp each other like old friends. The long road into the desert opens and closes the path behind them. They enter the great silence of the World Soul, one illumined, the other paused on the threshold.
Anubis leads the Storyteller deeper and deeper into the expanse of emptiness, or so it appears. There is no escape from yourself and thoughts in the great silence, all is reflected back, for the Self to answer and for the Self to listen. The past approaches, seeks resolution, the present stands still waiting, the future is silent but vigilant. The Storyteller feels a welcoming breeze, hears its tales of wonder, hears the song of the Crested Ibis, hail mighty Djehuti, God of Wisdom! Ancient gods rise from shimmering heat, peer through veils in space and time, peer at a spark of light with gaze impenetrable. They know what waits and how she will fare, for they have tested her mettle with heat ferocious.
The path is endless and anticipation heavy. Then, Anubis stops and points to a hole in the ground. She peers down to see a body laid on its side, the body positioned West to East. The woman is dressed in a simple garment, with a few possessions arranged around her. Her grave is a hole dug in the sand. The god and human step back and watch a procession of people approach to offer their respects. Prayers and petitions are offered to the God of the Dead, uttered in tearful tones are pleas on behalf of one who has passed from this world. They are soon gone, vanish into thin air. The Storyteller approaches the grave and stares at the woman intently, for it is her lying in the grave. The god lays a hand on her shoulder in sympathy, to see oneself as a corpse can be annihilating. The Storyteller weeps for herself and all that has been lost over time, including memories. In her mind’s eye all she can see are grains of sand flying through the air.
The Storyteller opens her eyes and is surprised to find herself in a tomb, dark except for a source of light at the end of the tunnel. Anubis asks her to walk towards the light, and to be mindful of where she places her feet. She must rely on all her senses to guide her through this place of silence and darkness. The tunnel seems to be endless and the darkness heavy. Her fears emerge from the depths of the mind and the tomb to taunt her mercilessly. She stands her ground, otherwise it would mean obliteration. Her voice warns the unseen terrors that she will be heard, will not be intimidated. She begins a chant to rise above all that emanates from fear and evil, on and on it rises, moving her from the dark to the light. Soon, she is standing in the inner chamber.
‘Is this the place of Becoming’ she finally asks.
He looks at her with knowing and humour.
‘It is and soon’ is all he says.
Anubis holds a dandelion seed head in his hand. It bursts into flame.