The Fountain

Walking the winding pathways brings you to a hidden glen. Trees form a circle around a finely manicured grass lawn. Standing alone and proud in the center is a stone archway looking as if it is an entrance to an unseen building. Yet, you can see through the archway and what meets your gaze is just the other side of the meadow.

You approach the arch. It is made of ordinary stones of all descriptions fitted and mortored finely together. Ivy clings and climbs up the archway. There is a feeling of time, of age, of the arch having been standing here for some long time.

Breezes softly dart around the glen and through the archway, first in one direction and then in another randomly. These are not normal breezes. They almost seem to carry a light laughter upon them - faintly heard, yet not heard. They urge you forward.

You touch the cold, solid rock of the arch. It is friendly. It invites you inside. The breezes gently coax you inside. You glance once, contemplatively, around you and then step under the arch.

Entering the mid-point you are disoriented. Darkest red blackness punctuated by swirls of brilliant white pinpoint stars surround you. Gone are the cool greens and browns that were with you an instant earlier. Now feel the extremes of deepest cold and highest heat. Colors are sharp as razor blades. Black, white, red, blue, yellow. Absolutes. Emptiness and fullness. Absolutes. All senses. Absolutes.

Absolutes.

Pain

Ecstacy

Absolutes

The Pendulum swings from one Absolute to the Other.

Maddeningly Sane

One second swirling, the next standing -- as if severed by the surgical strike of a scalpel. Absolutes.

It is over. Now, before you under the twinkling of faraway stars and surrounded by the stones of a long-forgotten stonehenge are a myriad, magickal pathways.