Temple Of The Muse

Eventually, the full moon rose and shed its light on the path I trod. I could tell the squirrel was leading me along a gentle upward path. We seemed to walk in a spiral, and as the rounds grew tighter, the greenery that lined the way glowed, as if lit from within. Further along the path, the trees and bushes formed a natural bower, with vines woven between the branches. The light grew stronger, more vibrant. Then we passed through the arch of trees into a clearing, and I saw beams of brighteners stream from within the Temple of the Muse.

The temple had taken a form I’d not encountered before: a round chapel with a curved dome for its roof. The walls were transparent, and shimmered in shades of rose, as the light flickered and danced through them from within. Its pearl pink tiled dome glowed against the night sky, framed by the risen moon. For some reason, its simplicity brought tears to my eyes and filled me with awe. It was the most delicate, most beautiful structure I had seen in many, many years of journeying.

A shaft of light fell on three steps that led to the shrine. I climbed them, entered through an ornamental archway and then passed into the presence of a muse, from whom the light seemed to emanate, as from a brand.

After bowing low, I fished from my pouch a scrap of fine leather, in which I had bound a fairy crystal. The crystal had long ago been given to me by a journeywoman from the Isle of Erin. It was a rare and precious thing, barely half the size of my small finger, clear and unflawed, and though I was sad to part with it, my intuition told me it was the only possible offering I could bring to this place and to this being of such complete and utter beauty.

In the absence of an altar, I knelt down, spread the leather wrapping on the floor and placed the crystal upon it. Light from the muse made the stone glow, and as it did, a tiny, perfect rainbow band I had not seen it until now became visible at its core.

I felt no need to utter words, for words would have seemed helpless and insufficient in view of my surroundings. The place itself, and the atmosphere, spoke them all. So, in my heart, I merely asked for a blessing from the muse for my journey, then knelt in the chapel for some time, allowing the light and the vibrancy to wash over me.

Eventually, I rose to my feet, bowed again, gathered up my pack, and made to leave.

“Wait!”

I turned.

“You have your blessing,” she said. “And have offered me a gift of something that is of genuine worth to you; now I shall do the same.”

Every nerve in my body tingled.

“Listen carefully”, she said, “for you must carry this mousa* in your soul as you journey.”

My heart beat wildly.

She spoke:

“Seek nine and three, and one, and two –
 The other hidden, one is you.
 Pay homage as to each it fits,
 Receive, in turn, your rightful gifts.

 Go far beyond the world you see.
 Deep in the past a destiny,
 Was writ: a call to journey,
 Many worlds, to know, unravel,
 Secrets from the past, and now,
 Before a destined future bow.

 Be true unto your soul desire,
 Live through words and arts the fire,
 Only you can carry,
 To the world. No longer tarry.

 Seek one, and two, and three and nine,
 The Muses, Fates, and Mnemosyne
 Shall mend your souls, if you stay true.
 The other hidden, one is you.”

My thoughts raced. My senses bristled. Deep down, I knew the words contained a grand truth, though I did not understand them fully.

The muse spoke again. “You travel light, and my gift will add no burden to your bones. Your soul, though, is heavy enough. In time, my gift will lighten that load.”

Tears welled up and filled my eyes.

“Go now”, she said. “Say nothing. There are no words in you for what you feel in this moment.”

She was right. I bowed my head, in gratitude and assent.

“The portal is close by, and the time has come.”

One last time, I drank in the brightness of my surroundings, then I shouldered my pack and strode out into the night.
Mousa: In the work of Pindar (or Pindarus), one of the nine lyric poets of anciet Greece, to “carry a mousa” means “to sing a song”, the “song” being a gift from a muse.