Parthenon’s poetic monologue (…as it was formed in my mind to cover a need of mine; the Parthenon itself doesn’t need to express anything. It just is. And it makes its strong statements just by that)
Barbarians, Christians, Franks, Turkish, Venetians, and British. My wounds have many names, but they were all barbaric. So many people passed and left marks of dis-respectfulness; an egoistic need of signaling that they were there. No matter what you represented, you‘re mine now. I feel so weak and insecure; who cares about a sacred vow? Let’s come up with the greatest vandalisms! I’ll put a cross, you’ll put a minaret, let’s rape this! I’ll throw a bomb, you’ll burn it to the ground. Elgin will come and say “I’ll steal what I found”! You may think I’m angry, you may think I’m hurt, that I am disappointed by this species’ lost bet. But while barbaric swords were raping my sacred cup of life, I stood there impenetrable, representing an essence wise. How could I be in pain? This is not possible. I’m not just my marble flesh; my image is just symbolic. I represent an era of a wider viewpoint; which also had black pages in the book of its history. But, it also had many struggling souls that saw the divine face to face; that noetic energy knows that humans are not a lost case. So, I’m still standing here for thousands of years, with lost and destroyed material, but still transmitting that atmosphere. I’m not in pain but those who hurt me are, because they’re not truly aware yet of their beyond-material part. Every now and then they expand the horizons, until that final level where they’ll be that wise noesis. Not for winning something in the future, not for a better “who knows when”. But for living a continuous now within a bliss of full extent.
Under this celestial roof, where beasts and monsters breathe, where dragons wait around the corner, and wolves search for the sheep, where Cyclops eat human flesh, and Minotaur’s labyrinths are built, where Hydras wait in the lake Lerna with their poisoned breath to kill, where Medusas turn men into stone looking at them directly, and Pandora’s boxes release curses as an answer to curiosity, one could feel afraid enough to never think of making a step, seeing the horror on that list that names so many deadly creatures. Yet, the scariest probable challenge, the figure that surpasses all of the above, the one and only great enemy of mine is I, the possible behemoth.
I walk on the path between the two hemispheres that mistakenly seem just material and too earthly. It looks they are that when one is louder than the other, when the one rules, keeping its pair almost silent. I sense processes, vibrations in my whole body; the place is pulsating, in symphony with my heartbeat. I touch, I observe, I surrender to the miracle; matter upgrades itself when recognizing its tenant. A noetically formed energy lies within everything; the only thing that is simultaneously in and out of spacetime. I saw my Self which is made only of that energy; It talked to me from that field where clocks are useless things. The climax you search for is here on this path; just harmonize the two sides, the semi-shpericals. Wider perception, utilizing both at the same degree, uncovers the experience of the whole brain functioning. And there every paradox is automatically explained. Epiphanies become natural events; this is your fate. You’ll see that death is just a flash that makes you something else; you’ll use that proof to live now more peacefully on Earth. I looked at the surroundings to picture them before I let go, feeling me, within myself, inside my enkephalos. I stood and sensed and spoke non-verbally to those two hemispheres I know we’ll synchronize. I have seen what you accomplish when you are united; when equally used, you make life a nonstop harmony. I leave you now to go back to the earthly consciousness; I influence (y)our waves to be at 38 Hz.
Κάθε κόκκος της Άνοιξης σ’ έναν του Φθινοπώρου αντιστοιχεί. Και του Χειμώνα η λαλιά δίχως το θέρος δεν ηχεί. Η διαμάχη αντιθέτων σύμπραξη είναι τελικά. Κόσμοι γεννιούνται κάθε μέρα και καταστρέφονται ξανά. Μα κάθε μια διάλυση πιο ισχυρή συμπύκνωση γεννά, ώσπου η πρώτη η ουσία κώδικας παύει να ‘ναι πια. Τότε, το αποτύπωμα που ‘χε από πάντα σκαλιστεί είναι ορατό, κι η γνώση του είναι αποκάλυψη τρανή. Τα όρια του Σύμπαντος ένα με του είμαι είναι, δες. Η διεύρυνση της οπτικής ταυτίζει περιφέρειες. Στου χώρου πια την αγκαλιά μια θέση άχρονη κρατάς. Της έλλειψης την πλάνη μ’ άθλους ξεσκέπασες …τὰν, όχι ἐπὶ τᾶς.