Sunrise has Gone

I am Alos the Diarist, one of the Elders of the tribe. A tribe that will, this morning, experience our celestial Moon God moving through the sky to perfectly align with our Sun God. I am tasked with recording this.

Much of the tribe are worried, they pose many questions as to what will happen, what it all means, if there is danger. It is our role as Elders to soothe them. We have spoken at length to them of this occurrence; I myself was present on the pedestal by the golden Temple, when old Ubiaran and fair huntress Zukida made their speeches, their foretelling. Wise astronomer Alanar, his white robes of state writhing in the breeze, was the council’s advisory, a stern and stately figure.

This is no portent of doom, we all insisted. But please, shield your eyes from the beauty of it; the sight may be too much for you.

During and after this momentous event, our crops will certainly thrive, blessed by the alignment of the Gods. The river that winds through the little settlements will run aplenty, enriching our lands amongst the emerald leafed trees.

Though our Gods are still a mystery to us, they are to be trusted, loved and worshipped.

And now, as I write, it appears to be gradually growing darker here. Very, very faintly, the shadows embolden and move. Overhead, the sun is obscured by cloud.

A section of the tribe are milling around the ancient tombs, laying glowing flowers for the dead. Some of them are gathering around the gothic sepulchres and our many shrines. Soon they will all approach the obelisks on the mount, guided by us, the Elders. 

I watch them now, adorning their bodies with sparkling feathers and shells. A group close to me have arranged themselves in a wide circle, sitting down and arranging stones. They are applying red and green face paint to one another, looking distinctly serene, which is good. There has begun a feast of fine drink and foods.

And now, as it gets darker still, more groups of them have banded together to dance. It is still early morning, and the shadows are turning grey.

I am beginning to feel more joyous about all of this, even though some of the tribe still seem very nervous. We shall be on our guard if need be.

And now, it is becoming very dark indeed. The sun is emerging from the clouds, shadows are deepening simultaneously. Soon, we shall witness all. We the Elders observe and oversee.

The dancing, clearly, is becoming more frenzied and chaotic. There are flailing limbs and laughter. A small group have dragged a man from his home and stripped him almost naked. He struggles and writhes in their grip. They are taking him to the sacrificial altar beside the obelisks. There are shouts of triumph and refusal.

We the Elders intervene and speak.

The Sun God has almost fully emerged from the clouds, and is now slowly being aligned with the Moon God. The tribe, almost as one, seem increasingly anxious. They are becoming bizarre, crazy, face paint in abundance – there seems to be almost a malign ritual happening.

‘Calm yourselves!’ shouts Ubiaran.

There are now hundreds here, with many more on route; most are dancing in a surging bedlam, in time with the retreating clouds and increasing darkness – the approach of the moon. We are concerned, it is becoming a panic.

In the centre of the throng, they are lifting up another half-naked body. Some have gathered by the altar of sacrifice, I can see some of them grinning malevolently. Two of them are wielding daggers. 

Two Elders have rushed to the obelisks. 

‘Stay your hands! This is not the way!’

The altar is now utter confusion, complete insanity. There are shouts and jostling, but the daggers are held at bay. The intended victim has been released, but blood has been spilled there nevertheless. Two more Elders have joined, and calm seems to have been restored.

But now, in the massive congregation below me, I can hear screaming and wailing. Some other groups though, are merely staring agape into the sky, like frozen statues. 

Darkness is falling slowly – a night-time in the morn.

And something is sensed, something is there.

The Elders insist I stay on my watch. Some of them have climbed the glorious mount above the tribe. The remaining Elders are walking amongst them, encouraging peace, soothing them with their council. The insanity seems to have calmed a little more.

It appears to me now that most of the multitude are simply staring upwards. Flocks of birds can be seen – in the darkening deep skies they are making their way home, their mistaken sense of nightfall instinctively overriding everything else. 

A serenity is gradually flooding the plains. It is now very, very dark. The Sun God, freed of the clouds, is now fully aligning with the Moon God, as all light is being eclipsed. It is like a tapestry given to us from the mystic Gods, unknown but full of love. The greatest performance of all, food for the senses and for the mind. Some little groups are falling to their knees. The Elders are clutching themselves in harmony and praise, their eyes closed fully.

I feel so small. Yet somehow connected to everything that ever was.

We are now in full alignment, and there is a stunning, sparkling halo around the Moon God, like ethereal wings. My words are failing me I fear, as this is indescribable. The light somehow seems healing, a blessing from our Gods. They are so good to us.

And now, our Moon God approaches us, very slowly. The audience are transfixed. A new light seems to be shining down on us all. The Elders are descending from the mount, and I will join them soon. The crowd are pressing forward.

We are able to see. Fully see. We all see, as now a ghostly stairway opens up from within from above. Beckoning us all, entreating us to join.

We are all gathered, all as one, to ascend.