The belief was that on the thirteenth day of the waning moon in the twelfth month of the year, a goddess from the heavens descended onto the crater in the middle of the rocky landscape of Chronos. Myths quoted that she was a pale as a palomino in the moonlight and the blue damask tints on her cheeks only added to the pallor. Her eyes were described as goblets of blue hemlock that caused drowsiness and inexplicable angst.
She was one of the thousand mystical beings in the mythology of the land. She was company to the Prince of Roses who blossomed in the winter evenings when the orange tinges of a hidden sun coloured the western sky, and to the Seraph guardian of the pale green waters of the Lake Viridis. She was the one goddess who had no name and was always referred to as Ice Blue Hyacinth.
Like the forgotten mythical beings of many lands she too was in poetry, in tales by obscure eccentrics, in the minds of scholars pursuing ancient studies and in the imagination of sculptors. Did anyone wait for her on the thirteenth day of the waning moon of the twelfth month? None. Was she part of the worshippers of deities of the land? No. Was she a goddess who received gifts in return for favours? No. Did anyone even remember her visits? No. Were there any who believed in the myth? Very few.
Somnus,the deaf and mute man who lived in the woods of Chronos was as obscure and unnoticed as Ice Blue Hyacinth. He roamed the nooks and crannies of the forest day in and day out. He often sat playing a zither which sang of sad tales that he alone knew and remembered. He had handcrafted the zither from the knee-high reeds that grew on the banks of Viridis. He had drawn figures, symbols and stories all over it, in a language that he alone knew and understood. In his eyes he concealed many secrets that could never be told whether or not he wanted to. He had no companion except the birds and beetles that thrived in the woods. Often the tales he etched on the trees and rocks spoke of elves and fairies who had hovered around him in sleep. He drew pictures of the dreams he dreamt with none to decipher their hidden meaning.
His thought processes were very limited and often eccentric. He believed that butterflies were angels, hyenas were friends and the beasts of the woods were mute people like himself. He had nothing to wear and went around the woods naked and unbound. The people in Chronos were aware of Somnus and his wanderings. He was another insignificant being in their lives. One night the air was filled with the murmurs of the nightly insects. Sleepy twitters of birds and the gentle whisper of falling dew were the only thin sounds in the atmosphere. The moon was extraordinarily wild and beautiful this night. Pale golden dust in the clouds made the moon appear in a nameless shade of yellow. Perhaps this was the thirteenth night of the waning moon in the twelfth month of the year. Perhaps Ice Blue Hyacinth was riding her invisible snow horse and was descending into the crater.
A sudden feeling of impenetrable melancholy rose in the air. All the beings in Chronos were troubled and awake. They began rising like zombies from a distant death and flowed into the moonlight. They were neither awake nor asleep. They knew each other and recognized each other. A clairvoyant notion of each others’ pain bloomed like a deep understanding in their hearts. They were speechless and brimming with tears. Young and old alike were bound in a hypnotic trance. No amount of trying could make them remember how to construct meaning. They had forgotten many many things. They were watery and bewildered like the milky white beams of the brimming moon.
Somnus sat at the crater’s edge watching the unforeseen descent of Ice Blue Hyacinth. He did not know her or understand her. His being quivered with indescribable peace that arose from an inexplicable feeling of loneliness and angst. He played his zither while drowning deeper and deeper into her crystal blue eyes. The goddess descended slowly into the frozen depths of the crater’s seas. Her snowflake wings moved gently like a swan’s gliding whiteness. He trembled with a feeling unknown to his self. Perhaps it was love, perhaps it was hate, perhaps it was a dream or sleep. Her blue silence and the zither’s broken tunes in Somnus’ untutored hands broke the hearts of the birds and beasts. His music was that of his silence. His silent world heard no songs. He knew not why he played or what he played. They were the sounds of the vibrations in the air. Of nakedness. Of primordial yearnings. Her beauty plucked at his heartstrings and death seemed imminent. Yet living was like death and death was not realized as being anything else that he was not.
She disappeared like a pearly tear drop into the depths of the crater even as the hypnotised people poured into that place from all sides. And as if some trance had lifted its veil they awoke, tremulous and cold. They found themselves in the middle of nowhere under the moon that glinted like frozen candy. They found themselves naked and vulnerable. Something supernaturally silent had happened. They all looked at Somnus and his bewildered eyes. They gleamed with an insane recognition of a companion to his silence. In those quivering eyes they read the tale of a silent peaceful trauma that contained an unspeakable tale of all that ever was beautiful.