This is the day we left Kolob for Earth. That great event, awaited by all, we see through Kozam and his companions.
Each lineage has been called for the announcement. Each in front of its arch that represents each house and its inhabitants. No one knows what will happen, it is a new event for everyone.
Excerpt from chapter 15 of “The palaces of Kolob”
The soft hum
That day we were between the third arch and the main access to Silam, on the right bank. The terraces, overflowing with schools, groups, dense beings and the new inhabitants who joined the outside life.
We were exultant, talking and laughing. I was fully accepted by Misón, Celem, Quebel, Caliandro, Moses, Alinia. But there was something inside me. A buzzing, like a flutter on the left side of my chest. Annoying and permanent when I thought about the double work he did. But I tried to justify myself thinking that it was for the good of all. That possibly would appreciate my behavior. How to explain what an inhabitant of boundaries experienced, I felt almost justified. Until the moment when Corina’s gaze met mine. Then that buzz the size of a plum bone vibrated persistently without paying attention to explanations.
But that inner buzz was overwhelmed by another that from my feet, shook my whole body.
I could not say where the sound came from, but the truth is that I felt it all over my body, from inside to outside. It reverberated in every part of my interior and caused intense fear. I was immobilized, because all my faculties were struggling to understand what I perceived, what was happening before our eyes; but in my personal history there was no class or category to assign it to what I experienced at that time. I mean, I did not have a name to describe it or words to express it. So I just maintained a position as dignified as possible and an expression as close to normal.
That was a rumble reserved for that day. The day of the detachment of the arch of the fourth era. Our world seemed to crack, splitting in half. He did not understand how Kolob could withstand those loud noises without his sky blanching, without Kokaubean turning reddish.
The vision of the arches had always been an image of balance, of perfection. How was it possible to reach a similar height with only two pillars? Before the solid and consistent image of the palaces, the arches were like whistles, that thrown to the sky they descended of exact and neat form in the other border. I would never have related its existence to the vibrating, grave-sounding whine that struck all of us who were present that morning at the end of our era. We had not been aware of the experience and I supposed that was going to be the last teaching of the houses.
Stone against stone
We felt small and vulnerable. That rumble of stone against stone, was not just something physical. There was an intention in all this. In the same way that the stridency of a trumpet calls the battle, that morning the detachment of the bow called us to the reality of the new scenario. He made us feel that together with all the wonder of our world, bordering on all the affection received and his peaceful routine. Contiguous to all the splendor of the palaces and their lineages, there were consistent realities, alien to our lives that, subterranean to our knowledge, gave thickness to everything.
That morning of shock, we were snatched from childhood in our world. For the first time we understood that our kingdom had a facet that showed up suddenly and its appearance was terrible. Everything we have heard since childhood, all the preparation in the noble disciplines, the teachings of schools and houses. The premises and their consequences. The alteration and its rooms. Everything seemed to have been a game until that moment. Everything had floated gently in the peaceful world of Kolob. But now they were incarnated in a loud and threatening, imposing rumble, like the slow advance of the fourth arch of the fourth era in the house of Silam.
Corina, at my side, clung tightly to my hand, her body pressed with mine seeking a refuge that I clumsily simulated. Around me, our team, impacted by the scene, remained in its ritual formation, crystallized and unable to make any comment.
The twenty-four matriarchal houses
There were twenty-four arches that morning, lacerating the surface of Kolob, and ripping out of its entrails, underground roars, as if colossal fingers touched the strings stretched for a long time for the occasion. Slowly, the arch, freed from the stone matrix that housed it during all that era, advanced as an infant does in its first steps. There were no oscillations in all its curvature, the extraordinary solidity of its structure, gave everything a strange solemnity. Slowly it crossed our position, with its vertex above our heads. For a moment he hid Kokaubean’s light, we turned slowly, accompanying his movement.
Like a parturient mountain, the matriarchal houses gave birth. The third arch had waited for an impassive era, behind him the great gate of the Jana palace.
We all observed the slow coupling of that incredible ellipse to its new position, framing in its interior in exact proportions to its three predecessors. We with our backs to the palace, we only thought of supporting it until the end.
Suddenly, there was silence as suddenly as the initial noise arose. And it was this silence as terrible as the previous. Because it left us in a momentary vacuum. We could not articulate a word, because I suppose, like me, we were all trying to coexist with a new feeling of maturity, of having reached the end, not related, but present. Of that always commented, always studied, but oh, for my life! That we never imagined that way.
Silent, we did not stop appreciating that change in the landscape that was the sum of our arch, it seemed more complex, a more extensive world than before. We added glory to the splendor of Kolob and its owners. At that moment we awakened to the sound of a first roar of the horns, which from the terraces of the palaces, opened the new stage of our departure. We began to sing the hymn of the end of the age to the third call. All the inhabitants raise our voices, in unison. Our voices were vibrant, all the dread retained inside us leaping from our throats like a waterfall. If it were not for that hymn, our soul would have been cracked by the pressure inside of us. More than singing, the first stanzas fled from our mouth as the gazelle escapes the leopard.
The hymn of the game
The final moment arrived, children of the greatest
will depart with courage, as we were taught.
As we tempered the voice, a strange force arose within us, infusing us with courage. If the earth bellowed a moment ago, now it was our turn and we were not going to leave without our voice the biggest day of our life.
We will leave everything here, for someday return
do not fear, do not doubt, be faithful oh you.
The rescued from the dark abyss
those chosen by the brightness of their eyes
those who will return with stars in their hands.
We were like a tempest breaking in the palaces of Kolob. Because our voice was focused on them. In the background the great dome of light of our father. We wanted everyone to know that neither the fright nor the fright of that day could dominate the temper of the children of the Great Gnolaum. Then we begin to look at each other, encouraging each other, showing our strength. And already in that moment we feel the vibration of the earth of our world through the resonance of our voice. Yes, we are sorry wonder of wonders! We feel our planet resonate, like a drum, because of the crackle of the voices of their children. Reverberated as if it were light what came out of our mouths, as if our voice touched, like the bows, the strings of their depths. But this time not to terrify but to ecstasy every being that inhabits his skin,
It is we, the sands of the sky
We are the drops of dark
endless Glory for the one who has the scepter
Honor without limit for those who sustain and grow
The horns of the palaces
When this last verse ended, all the trumpets of the palaces sounded with extraordinary force, millions, wielded by dense beings. His waves, visible as waves in an atmospheric sea, swept us with translucent fingers that undulated for instants the vision of things. And we shouted with joy, forgetting the fear, the ecstasy of the moment flooded us. We shouted and we did it without order or concert, something unknown until that moment, we did it for the pure pleasure of victory over our fear. We shout to the arcs of the ages, to Irreantum, to the rolling hills of Kolob, we throw our voices to Kokaubean, we shout towards the golden horns of the premises. We shout responding to the tubes that in the hands of those free and exalted beings, from within, threw all the strength of the houses. We did it by terrorizing forever the terror, that predator that was about to defeat us. We did it to show our strength and our commitment.
We embrace, we kiss each other and we break with the delicate and orderly flow of the events of our world.
That was a big day, the day that our childhood and our era were over.
Excerpt from chapter 15, “Noisy clatter” of the book “The palaces of Kolob”