The Seventh Gate
Sihara sees no one; but wherever she goes – as difficult the journey is – someone is caring for her every need and encouraging her; she can feel it…
Warriors of Transcendence, Part 34
“Sixty- eight, sixty- nine, seventy, and that’s it!” they exclaimed, as the road came to an end in a broad stone Chamber.
They knew there were seventy steps, and therefore they had not become exhausted like I did! Sihara thought. Without a word to her loyal attendants, she dropped to the stone floor in exhaustion and fell into a deep slumber.
“I feel as though I have slept for centuries!” said Sihara as she awoke.
She straightened out her cape, sipped from the clear water at her side and looked around. There was nothing extraordinary or awe-inspiring in the cave, and it was silent. There were no well-springs or plants; there were no colors and no Transparent Ones. She was completely alone. There was a door, an exit from the hall, across from her, and next to it was a large cloth satchel. Sihara inspected the bag and found it to be suitable for her. She filled it with a water flask and cluster of grapes that she found in the room, and continued along the dirt path.
How is it possible that there is such vast space within the White Chamber? she asked herself.
She recalled her first glimpse of the White Chamber, seen through the waves.
It didn’t seem so big then, she thought as she walked. How can a tree grow inside of it? And how can water flow within it? And where does this road lead? She did not have the answers, and continued to walk. After three hours, she stopped, removed her satchel and drank from the flask.
“Master of the Chamber,” she said hesitantly, “Where are you? Where am I? Is there still a long road ahead of me?”
There was no reply, not even an echo was heard from the walls. Sihara continued to walk for many hours, until night fell. Her strength was totally depleted.
When she awoke, she found bread, cheese, another cluster of grapes and a flask of cold water by her side.
There is someone here, someone is looking out for my welfare, she thought, joyously, I am not alone!
She placed the food into her satchel, and wearily set out on her journey, continuing for three more days. She no longer felt joy in receiving the food she found at her side each morning. Sihara’s spirit was becoming dulled. On her fourth lonely night, she reached a large stone cave. When she bent down to drink from the chilled water, her legs trembled and she fell to the ground. She thought of nothing as she drank, more and more. She then reached out blindly and ate the chilled grapes, soft bread and cheese. The moments passed in silence. Across from her, at the other end of the cave, she could see the narrow, gray, dusty, dirt path, which seemed endless, like the previous one. Sihara no longer expected anything. She felt that where she walked today, she would walk tomorrow and the next day…forever.
“Sihara?” a soft voice whispered. Her eyes were shut and her thoughts vague.
“Sihara,” she heard the voice call again. She stopped and listened, too lifeless and devoid of strength to respond or reply.
“Sihara,” the way her name was called reminded her that she was still alive. Somewhere, far away from here, there was a living Sihara, with a will of her own, with hope and a purpose to life.
I know nothing… she thought, exhausted. I remember nothing…
“Sihara” spoke the voice again, “Sihara.”
She covered her face with the palms of her hands.
I am too tired….I have no more strength…I have forgotten everything. Once, when I met the Transparent Master, I knew…I requested…I wanted to go on…but that is over and done with…
Waves of fog rolled through her brain. Everything was bleak, dusty, worn out.
“Sihara,” repeated the voice.
She opened her eyes and looked around at the woven mat, at the flask of water, and at her aching feet.
All I want is to rest and sleep and nothing more… she thought, but the question still remains- where did I come from and where do I desire to go?
Beyond the fog, the thin line of the horizon became visible.
“Sihara,” said the voice with compassion and understanding.
The pain of the dusty journey fell away and the web of sleep that had enveloped her was loosened. She felt alert, and opened her eyes wide.
“Somewhere there is a light that awaits me,” she whispered to herself.
She was filled with longing and a fear of the darkness- The darkness she had experienced, the darkness that still awaited her.
How can I forget? For it is like dying! But how do I keep myself from forgetting, when as time passes all becomes so dreary?
Exhausted, she leaned onto the wall of the cave, her mind devoid of thoughts.
Is there nothing that you hope for? the question crossed her mind. Sihara did not respond.
“Is there nothing that you wish for?” the voice pressed on.
“I do not know…” she answered, fatigued.
“Make a wish,” the voice continued, and did not let go. “What is your wish?”
Sihara gathered her strength. “Maybe…to want again. To remember what I have forgotten…to find what I have lost…to want again, from the start.”
A thin crack appeared along the gray, stone wall by her side.
“The dust of the journey,” said the voice, soft as a bell ringing in the morning breeze.
Sihara knew that it was the Master of Transcendence who had spoken.
“If I could only show you its true value,” he said. “If I could only show you the world through which you have journeyed, and how your steps brought light to the darkness from the times of old.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I have illuminated nothing. I was so weary and exhausted; I knew not who I was. I had forgotten everything…”
“That is not so,” he answered. “The desires in the depths of your heart were not extinguished. They became covered by the dust of the journey, unrecognizable to you, but they guided your way and led you to me.”
“I wanted to come as a victor, with a sense of purpose,” she said, humiliated, “and I have arrived as a failure.”
“This is it!” answered the voice with love. “This is how you were chosen to arrive.”
Sihara closed her eyes. She was overcome with joy, feeling like a weary traveler caressed by a soothing breeze. The crack in the stone wall had widened enough to enable her to pass through. Sihara left the satchel on the ground and passed through the opening in the wall. No more barren roads ahead. Beyond the wall was a wide, well – lit passageway where the Transparent Ones waited for her, as if they had always been there.
A broad silver staircase led inside, as two birds welcomed her with a noble flight. Their wings were a luminous purple, their abdomens a pure white, and golden feathers perched on their heads, pointed backwards. For a moment, Sihara was overcome with great fear. These birds were identical to the fierce bird with sharp claws she had encountered in the Shadow Valley! But when the birds began to sing, she knew that the terrible bird she had seen then was but an illusion, an imitation of these wondrous, lyrical creatures. The fear slowly dissipated from her heart, and she joined their song, a never-ending song of praise and thanks, a song to the Dweller of the Chamber, and to the Master of all, its Transcendor.
The birds led Sihara to the sixth gate, the gate of light, and she followed them.
The light was stronger, though it did not emanate from torches, nor from the Transparent Ones, whose blue light was weaker. After a while, Sihara had to close her eyes, the light was too bright to behold. She stopped for a moment, but the song of the birds urged her forward and gave her strength to go on. Several steps later she began to sense the white light in her brain as well. If she could have seen herself, she would have been surprised, since her body was becoming more and more radiant. Her Transparent Ones had vanished in a great light. The light, a being that spoke to her, calmed her spirit: “Walk on, my child.”
The silver steps continued, higher and higher, until they reached the golden gate, the seventh and final one. The gate, supported on both sides by beautifully carved white marble pillars, was adorned with many decorations, one being a myriad of precious metal shapes joined together. Near the top of the domed gate were two silver birds in flight, resembling the birds that had escorted her as they circled over her head. A majestic tree was etched onto the face of the gate, its thin roots spread out below, its trunk was broad and its branches stretched upward like aspiring hands. Above the domed entrance, silver letters were etched into the black stone, forming the word:
‘R-O-Y-A-L-T-Y.’
Sihara knew that she had reached her destination.
“It is I, Sihara,” she whispered, breathlessly.
And the gate opened from the inside.
To be continued.
***
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