Cry of the Banshee - Episode Two
At the sound of these words the foundation stones of the church itself began to tremble and convulse as the Banshee went from words to sighs and groans.Her voice seemed to be the voice of many, the voices of neglected souls long ago, calling out through rock and standing stone. She wailed and she wept and her hot tears ran down her well-worn face , over her breasts , down her sturdy legs and fell upon that cold floor. Each tear falling to the ground of the church created an opening that seemed to drop down, drop down into an abyss. From each opening the roots of ancient trees began to rise, running round the interior of the building , covering the stained -glass windows like haggard hands, and blocking out the sun until all was completely dark. The only sound being the crawling of the trees upon the floor, along the walls, and reaching as high as the ceiling, blotting out any artificial light. And finally even that sound stopped and what remained was utter stillness , total silence. It is difficult to put into words what happened next. In the darkness, in the silence,in the nothingness we waited. We waited in the moment for the next moment to appear. And everyone, aware of a presence, or better yet the presence of many presences, opened their eyes but nothing could be seen. Nothing could be heard. Not yet. Everything was felt. And then as a curtain or veil slowly lifting a warm, rich and multi-colored light seemed to grow out of the earth beneath our feet. From the openings below created by the Banshee's tears, a light was emerging until all were illumined or bathed in the rays of this sun from below. And in these rays were seen and heard and felt - melodies, songs and chants from some other world, which rose and sounded together in various modes, carried by the colors of this earthen sun. As we looked around the room we saw other faces from long ago. There was Patrick. There was Brendan. And there was Brigit , Columba, Ita and Hild and many more... all kept silence as if waiting for the next moment; the next moment when the most beautiful, the most powerful voice of all was heard, heard not just with our ears, but in the depths, in 'the deep heart's core'. A voice, deeper and richer than any ancient imagining , and the words, more like a song, cut gaps in hearts of stone and filled deserts with rivers of longing and desire. This voice, this blessed voice was rising from below, from the earth, speaking or singing in numinous tones. I will tell you now what this voice said, and did: -Episode two
At the sound of these words the foundation stones of the church itself began to tremble and convulse as the Banshee went from words to sighs and groans.Her voice seemed to be the voice of many, the voices of neglected souls long ago, calling out through rock and standing stone. She wailed and she wept and her hot tears ran down her well-worn face , over her breasts , down her sturdy legs and fell upon that cold floor. Each tear falling to the ground of the church created an opening that seemed to drop down, drop down into an abyss. From each opening the roots of ancient trees began to rise, running round the interior of the building , covering the stained -glass windows like haggard hands, and blocking out the sun until all was completely dark. The only sound being the crawling of the trees upon the floor, along the walls, and reaching as high as the ceiling, blotting out any artificial light. And finally even that sound stopped and what remained was utter stillness , total silence. It is difficult to put into words what happened next. In the darkness, in the silence,in the nothingness we waited. We waited in the moment for the next moment to appear. And everyone, aware of a presence, or better yet the presence of many presences, opened their eyes but nothing could be seen. Nothing could be heard. Not yet. Everything was felt. And then as a curtain or veil slowly lifting a warm, rich and multi-colored light seemed to grow out of the earth beneath our feet. From the openings below created by the Banshee's tears, a light was emerging until all were illumined or bathed in the rays of this sun from below. And in these rays were seen and heard and felt - melodies, songs and chants from some other world, which rose and sounded together in various modes, carried by the colors of this earthen sun. As we looked around the room we saw other faces from long ago. There was Patrick. There was Brendan. And there was Brigit , Columba, Ita and Hild and many more... all kept silence as if waiting for the next moment; the next moment when the most beautiful, the most powerful voice of all was heard, heard not just with our ears, but in the depths, in 'the deep heart's core'. A voice, deeper and richer than any ancient imagining , and the words, more like a song, cut gaps in hearts of stone and filled deserts with rivers of longing and desire. This voice, this blessed voice was rising from below, from the earth, speaking or singing in numinous tones. I will tell you now what this voice said, and did: -Episode two
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