The tale is of Theophylaktos and an ineffable beauty, feared
by those who stick to surfaces and revered by the peoples of old. The
situations are self-descriptive and modicums are not dwelled into. With that, I
proceed.
Theophylaktos (guarded by God) is drowning. He is told to not move too much and just let water guide him to the inevitable fate that lay ahead. He hesitates, wanting not to be duped. At a later time, and with no foreseeable choice, he submits himself to the mercy and whims of the river Bisaltes. Known to be an ancient mighty river, he knew not of its connexion with the Aegean. At that moment, it seemed to him that he was entrapped, and Bisaltes was but a herald of the dreaded Styx. There came to him a vision, none other than The Watcher himself. He opened Theophylaktos’ eyes to the beauty that lay before his very senses, and all around him.
Thence came a realization. He saw the deer and peoples living in harmony, propounding to him that relish waits ahead. It was the perfect day for hunting, but no one there would feed on the other kind’s life. It occurred to him that all knew him by his name. He began to revel, to float and become stable. In time, he would glide over and above the mighty and pitiful Bisaltes.
He rose to the banks, his heart lightened by the beautiful smile on people’s faces. He rode on the back of deer, drank milk and basked in this shared affluence; and just when he was about to lie down on the wet and glowing grass, he saw a woman.
Unlike all others, no light emanated from her body. Her posture symbolized wounds of a strife and glory-taken-away. Yet, her beauty was above all, even with the realization that he hadn’t seen her face still. He went to her at once; and intending to kiss her and bring joy to one another, he grabs her by the hip, and puts his fingers in her golden hair. She turns back and looks at him. He took a great bow and then looked up, straight on her.
It was Medusa.
Theophylaktos (guarded by God) is drowning. He is told to not move too much and just let water guide him to the inevitable fate that lay ahead. He hesitates, wanting not to be duped. At a later time, and with no foreseeable choice, he submits himself to the mercy and whims of the river Bisaltes. Known to be an ancient mighty river, he knew not of its connexion with the Aegean. At that moment, it seemed to him that he was entrapped, and Bisaltes was but a herald of the dreaded Styx. There came to him a vision, none other than The Watcher himself. He opened Theophylaktos’ eyes to the beauty that lay before his very senses, and all around him.
Thence came a realization. He saw the deer and peoples living in harmony, propounding to him that relish waits ahead. It was the perfect day for hunting, but no one there would feed on the other kind’s life. It occurred to him that all knew him by his name. He began to revel, to float and become stable. In time, he would glide over and above the mighty and pitiful Bisaltes.
He rose to the banks, his heart lightened by the beautiful smile on people’s faces. He rode on the back of deer, drank milk and basked in this shared affluence; and just when he was about to lie down on the wet and glowing grass, he saw a woman.
Unlike all others, no light emanated from her body. Her posture symbolized wounds of a strife and glory-taken-away. Yet, her beauty was above all, even with the realization that he hadn’t seen her face still. He went to her at once; and intending to kiss her and bring joy to one another, he grabs her by the hip, and puts his fingers in her golden hair. She turns back and looks at him. He took a great bow and then looked up, straight on her.
It was Medusa.
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