Astonishing the Gods Read Online Free Page A
Author: Ben Okri
of development that the works imparted the psychic luminosity of their artistry in mysterious colours, concealed forms, and even more concealed subjects.
Awed by their majestic festivals, astonished by the infinite ways in which everything done in the civilisation was touched with wisdom, and inspiring of passionate delight, he found himself soaring in the dreams of this mysterious people.
He had never been so happy as he was in the great dreams. His joy was so intense that he became aware of himself in the air, invisible, a pure vibration of bliss, a bird of light. And he wondered how long he would exist in this beatification before he would find himself falling back towards the stones of a familiar reality.
He had hardly completed this thought, floating above the dreams of the cultivated hills of serenity, when he felt himself falling. He was falling through the air, with the beautiful visions drifting away from him. And his fall was so strange that when he found himself on solid ground, standing there as if he had never made a single motion all his life, he was completely surprised.
He did not have to look to know that the bridge had become solid again.
12
When he did look back, however, he found himself at the end of the most magnificent bridge he would ever see. He thought of it as the bridge of self-discovery. It was a great marble bridge with gold incrustations and diamond girders. Sweeping over the air in a majestic curve, it seemed to be made of a substance that created its own light. Its light irradiated the seven hills.
He was still marvelling at the bridge and at the curious nature of his crossing, when he became aware of the silent presence of his guide.
âI donât think I will ever understand,â he said.
âUnderstanding often leads to ignorance, especially when it comes too soon,â replied his guide.
âBut if I donât understand how can I carry on?â
âItâs because you donât understand that you carry on.â
âBut I have to make sense of what I have just experienced.â
âWhen you make sense of something, it tends to disappear. It is only mystery which keeps things alive,â said his guide, patiently.
It was the patience in his guideâs voice that made him look back. When he looked back, he was astonished to find that the bridge had disappeared. It occurred to him that he had somehow managed to walk across emptiness. For the first time, touched with a magical humility, he realised the nature of the small miracle he had enacted in his life.
Making no allusion to his crossing of the abyss, his guide led him into the city of the Invisibles.
1
They went down stone streets, with silence echoing about them. The city was empty, but he felt presences everywhere. He couldnât explain it, but it seemed the air was watching him.
In the darkness the buildings loomed like materialised dreams. They seemed like great constructs on a giant stage set. He felt small amongst the mighty stone edifices.
They went into the city at the most mysterious time of night, when footsteps were heard and no one was seen, or when a song would drift past in the air, disembodied.
His guide was silent. But at the darkest hour he seemed to notice a golden glow beside him as they passed the open spaces with marble fountains and elegant stone monoliths where the founding fathers of legend had made the public declaration of the creation of a new civilisation.
The glow that was his guide was intense in the open legendary spaces. The marble fountains, seven in all, had the sculptings of rare ocean-bed fishes with brilliantly lit water spouting from their mouths. On the stone monoliths had been inscribed the original words of the initiators of the new civilisation â words that had the brevity and authority of universal laws. They were words of a language that he couldnât decode, a language no longer spoken. Then he realised that all along he had assumed a
Awed by their majestic festivals, astonished by the infinite ways in which everything done in the civilisation was touched with wisdom, and inspiring of passionate delight, he found himself soaring in the dreams of this mysterious people.
He had never been so happy as he was in the great dreams. His joy was so intense that he became aware of himself in the air, invisible, a pure vibration of bliss, a bird of light. And he wondered how long he would exist in this beatification before he would find himself falling back towards the stones of a familiar reality.
He had hardly completed this thought, floating above the dreams of the cultivated hills of serenity, when he felt himself falling. He was falling through the air, with the beautiful visions drifting away from him. And his fall was so strange that when he found himself on solid ground, standing there as if he had never made a single motion all his life, he was completely surprised.
He did not have to look to know that the bridge had become solid again.
12
When he did look back, however, he found himself at the end of the most magnificent bridge he would ever see. He thought of it as the bridge of self-discovery. It was a great marble bridge with gold incrustations and diamond girders. Sweeping over the air in a majestic curve, it seemed to be made of a substance that created its own light. Its light irradiated the seven hills.
He was still marvelling at the bridge and at the curious nature of his crossing, when he became aware of the silent presence of his guide.
âI donât think I will ever understand,â he said.
âUnderstanding often leads to ignorance, especially when it comes too soon,â replied his guide.
âBut if I donât understand how can I carry on?â
âItâs because you donât understand that you carry on.â
âBut I have to make sense of what I have just experienced.â
âWhen you make sense of something, it tends to disappear. It is only mystery which keeps things alive,â said his guide, patiently.
It was the patience in his guideâs voice that made him look back. When he looked back, he was astonished to find that the bridge had disappeared. It occurred to him that he had somehow managed to walk across emptiness. For the first time, touched with a magical humility, he realised the nature of the small miracle he had enacted in his life.
Making no allusion to his crossing of the abyss, his guide led him into the city of the Invisibles.
1
They went down stone streets, with silence echoing about them. The city was empty, but he felt presences everywhere. He couldnât explain it, but it seemed the air was watching him.
In the darkness the buildings loomed like materialised dreams. They seemed like great constructs on a giant stage set. He felt small amongst the mighty stone edifices.
They went into the city at the most mysterious time of night, when footsteps were heard and no one was seen, or when a song would drift past in the air, disembodied.
His guide was silent. But at the darkest hour he seemed to notice a golden glow beside him as they passed the open spaces with marble fountains and elegant stone monoliths where the founding fathers of legend had made the public declaration of the creation of a new civilisation.
The glow that was his guide was intense in the open legendary spaces. The marble fountains, seven in all, had the sculptings of rare ocean-bed fishes with brilliantly lit water spouting from their mouths. On the stone monoliths had been inscribed the original words of the initiators of the new civilisation â words that had the brevity and authority of universal laws. They were words of a language that he couldnât decode, a language no longer spoken. Then he realised that all along he had assumed a
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