Astonishing the Gods Read Online Free Page B
Author: Ben Okri
similarity of language, when in fact he had been communicating with his guide beyond words.
They crossed the shining open spaces and came to an array of streets. The houses, buildings, and offices were all majestic, and all of stone, but it was of a stone that seemed in a permanent state of dreaming.
As he passed them he felt that one day he would understand their dreams.
2
The air was full of harmonies. He breathed them in. Elated with the harmonies in the air, he was surprised to find that it wasnât the buildings with their clarity of construction, their musical forms, their chaste pillars, and their ancient moods that so affected him. There was no denying the nobility of the tenements and the purity of the abodes: they made the spaces into something dream-like. But what affected him the most, as he went down the narrow streets, were the myths and the magic in the air.
All things invisible had a hidden glow to them. He sensed in that world something higher than marble and gold. He sensed a spirit of hidden light everywhere, concealed behind the mighty churches and the great basilicas of justice.
The myths in the air made him feel as if he had left his body and entered a temple of world dreams. This was compounded by melodies heard and not located. It occurred to him that the city was composed of songs, and that the stones were singing. It occurred to him that the marble facades and the radiant statues, the stained-glass cathedrals and the merchant banks, the emporiums and the visible buildings of state, the yellow order of it all and violet perfection of the streets had been erected, put in place, and shaped purely by music, and by spirit.
It was the harmonies in the air that made him sense that the visible city was a pretext and a guise for an invisible realm. All things suggested something divine.
As he passed the silent mausoleums and the celebratory arches and the temples touched with the blue light of that darkness, he sensed that the visible city was a dream meant to deceive the eyes of men. He sensed that everything seen was intended to be visible only that it should pass away.
The hidden harmonies in the air seemed to mock the grandeur that he saw in the golden cupolas, the oriel windows, and the sprawling palaces.
Then, as he contemplated this hint of the destructÃbility of all things seen, he became aware that what first seemed like a city of stone was really a city of water. It appeared briefly to be a realm beneath the deepest ocean, where the purest sunlight pours out from below, where memory no longer reaches, and where living eyes have never been.
3
He was about to ask a question of his guide when he felt from the harmonies in the air a modest injunction to silence. The glow that was his guide floated serenely beside him, illuminating the way.
He walked on in the silver melodies. He breathed in fragrances of tenderness, and breathed out his anxieties. He swam in his questions. He had never felt so weightless.
The city was a world; and the world was telling him things that he couldnât understand for many years to come.
As he walked though, listening to his happy footfalls, he felt the world was telling him to stop looking, for then he would see beyond; to stop thinking, for then he would comprehend; to stop trying to make sense of things, for then he would find the truest grace.
4
Then, quite imperceptibly, things began to change. The rooftops, which at first seemed uniform under the blue light of darkness, became more distinct. And yet, all about him, the city was yielding its forms. Houses seemed to turn into liquid, and to flow away before he reached them. A horse in the distance became a mist when he got there. Fountains dissolved into fragrances. Palaces became empty spaces where trees dwelt in solitude. Cathedrals became vacant places where harmonies were sweetest in the air.
It suddenly appeared odd to him, but the solid things of the city seemed like ideas. And ideas,
They crossed the shining open spaces and came to an array of streets. The houses, buildings, and offices were all majestic, and all of stone, but it was of a stone that seemed in a permanent state of dreaming.
As he passed them he felt that one day he would understand their dreams.
2
The air was full of harmonies. He breathed them in. Elated with the harmonies in the air, he was surprised to find that it wasnât the buildings with their clarity of construction, their musical forms, their chaste pillars, and their ancient moods that so affected him. There was no denying the nobility of the tenements and the purity of the abodes: they made the spaces into something dream-like. But what affected him the most, as he went down the narrow streets, were the myths and the magic in the air.
All things invisible had a hidden glow to them. He sensed in that world something higher than marble and gold. He sensed a spirit of hidden light everywhere, concealed behind the mighty churches and the great basilicas of justice.
The myths in the air made him feel as if he had left his body and entered a temple of world dreams. This was compounded by melodies heard and not located. It occurred to him that the city was composed of songs, and that the stones were singing. It occurred to him that the marble facades and the radiant statues, the stained-glass cathedrals and the merchant banks, the emporiums and the visible buildings of state, the yellow order of it all and violet perfection of the streets had been erected, put in place, and shaped purely by music, and by spirit.
It was the harmonies in the air that made him sense that the visible city was a pretext and a guise for an invisible realm. All things suggested something divine.
As he passed the silent mausoleums and the celebratory arches and the temples touched with the blue light of that darkness, he sensed that the visible city was a dream meant to deceive the eyes of men. He sensed that everything seen was intended to be visible only that it should pass away.
The hidden harmonies in the air seemed to mock the grandeur that he saw in the golden cupolas, the oriel windows, and the sprawling palaces.
Then, as he contemplated this hint of the destructÃbility of all things seen, he became aware that what first seemed like a city of stone was really a city of water. It appeared briefly to be a realm beneath the deepest ocean, where the purest sunlight pours out from below, where memory no longer reaches, and where living eyes have never been.
3
He was about to ask a question of his guide when he felt from the harmonies in the air a modest injunction to silence. The glow that was his guide floated serenely beside him, illuminating the way.
He walked on in the silver melodies. He breathed in fragrances of tenderness, and breathed out his anxieties. He swam in his questions. He had never felt so weightless.
The city was a world; and the world was telling him things that he couldnât understand for many years to come.
As he walked though, listening to his happy footfalls, he felt the world was telling him to stop looking, for then he would see beyond; to stop thinking, for then he would comprehend; to stop trying to make sense of things, for then he would find the truest grace.
4
Then, quite imperceptibly, things began to change. The rooftops, which at first seemed uniform under the blue light of darkness, became more distinct. And yet, all about him, the city was yielding its forms. Houses seemed to turn into liquid, and to flow away before he reached them. A horse in the distance became a mist when he got there. Fountains dissolved into fragrances. Palaces became empty spaces where trees dwelt in solitude. Cathedrals became vacant places where harmonies were sweetest in the air.
It suddenly appeared odd to him, but the solid things of the city seemed like ideas. And ideas,
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