My response to Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt, Beacon #writephoto.
Once again something stirs deep within my mind. I see images of things past, images of things held dear. The great mage, prophet and madman Merlin was going to feature in my offering but his visit has been rescheduled to another day. The High Priestess in this tale is one that has visited the shores of ancient Britain before. She and I are known to each other…Her story is intimately linked with my past history you could say. I had a clear picture in my mind of the story and how it would unfold. This Beacon offers a light through often dark and choppy waters, both on the inner and outer. It acts as symbol of the triumph of Light over Chaos and Darkness. It also acts as a herald, bringing with it news of much importance. Like the High Priestess we can sometimes find ourselves waiting on distant summits, waiting for a glimpse of something which will bring us hope and healing. Our world is in much disarray as hers, nothing much changes in the long and troubled history of humanity! Yet, we must find the strength and courage, as well as humility to stand against things which seek to destroy our spirit and compassion. Above all we must hold fast to our Soul’s mission.
The beacon remains unlit, waiting on the sacred flame from the mother temple. The High Priestess stands on the summit scanning the horizon. There is no sign of the ship yet. She prays silently for the safety of its passengers and urges the elements to give them unhindered passage to these shores. The world is in disarray and shrouded in darkness. Tyranny and despotism are seeking to destroy knowledge gathered over thousands of years, almost succeeding in some places. They understand little of the ways of the enlightened ones, only believing them to be simple peasants. Even ‘simple peasants’ have the right to be holders of the Light. The Soul of humanity has a long journey ahead of it and the Light has willed its children receive assistance in this endeavour. The High Priestess humbly accepts this mission and waits on her spiritual brethren this night to complete the ritual. The Order members are scattered to the four winds, devoting their lives to the betterment of humanity. In silence and anonymity do they engage in this work. The outer spiritual garb do they show the world but the inner, true garment do they keep hidden. As much for their protection and that of their soul’s mission. What humanity does not understand and fear it can destroy in its ignorance.
A fresh wind clears the sky of clouds and the luminous Moon is revealed in all her glory. Suddenly the silhouette of a ship is seen against the horizon. They come! Joy fills her heart. Strange currents steer the ship to safety into a sheltered harbour not far from the summit. Her brethren speak with her; mind to mind do they embrace one of their own in joy and relief. This is no babble of voices, with one not understanding the other. Myths tell of humanity’s arrogance in building a great tower to reach the heavens; unified in one voice were they but ending only in dissonance due to their hubris. An allegorical tale you must understand. The High Priestess senses the presence of the Flame and thanks the gods for this precious gift. She bestows a blessing upon them and offers a welcome to these unknown shores. They offer their thanks and love to one who has remained steadfast in her devotion and duties. A moment of silence prevails and then the passengers are ready to disembark. She makes her way down to the harbour to welcome them.
The Viking long ship waits silently in the harbour as the High Priestess approaches. Its captain and crew bow to her. They stand in deep conversation for a while. All turn as the passengers step forward, figures garbed in simple woollen cloaks. They acknowledge her and walk in procession up to the summit. The earth beneath their feet begins to hum in response. It ushers in great calm and purity. Thus is the ground hallowed and made fit for the sacred rites, which are to ensue. The Moon increases in brightness, illuminating the outdoor temple. All participants, including the ship captain and his crew stand in a circle around the beacon. Only the High Priestess, High Priest and the Flame stand outside the consecrated temple. The people in the circle remain in deep meditation as the energies change around them. They link mentally with all their absent brethren, an endless web of minds and hearts linking with the Light. The darkness and shadows fight to break this web of light. Again and again they assault this tessellation to no avail. Otherworld beings protectively encircle the smaller circle of humans. Thus is the signal given to the three waiting outside the temple to enter. They process in and circle clockwise to finally stand before the beacon. The cloak of the Flame vanishes to reveal a towering figure of Silver-Violet fire. They cup their hands and gently place flickering flames within the beacon. It blazes into life with an unearthly glow. Thus are the children of the Light alerted to the establishment of a new temple in the northern lands. The silver-violet flame expands outwards covering all in its path. Each participant looks deeply within their heart, seeking meaning and a blessing. Thus does the Flame offer purification, healing and protection to all who seek it out. It offers a beacon of Hope to all.
The writer ends her story on this positive note. She feels it’s a true account of everything that had happened so long ago. Time in this case is measured in millennia rather than years. Everyone around her is unsuspecting of her true identity. As for this account of the events of that distant night, a significant moment in the brief history of humanity. Her rare visits to the beacon always bring back vivid memories. The Flame is eternal, ever-present in the beacon. For those with the Sight and sensitive natures its presence can be felt strongly. The writer closes the book and puts down her pen. Her deep violet coloured eyes gaze at the view outside the window. The day is sunny and a variety of boats are going up and down the river. The road traffic is minimal. A perfect day in fact. She feels a visit coming on, perhaps to the art gallery today. A crow stands on the window ledge outside and watches her figure disappear through the front door, a silver-violet flame trailing behind her.