The Submerged Temple

The Submerged Temple stood in all its ancient majesty and decaying splendour.
The reflections of the water and the shadows of marine creatures created dances of shadow and light upon the sculptured stones.

It seemed like an underwater cathedral, with statues of angels swaying among shells and corals and green-golden sand.
The reflections of the sun through the Gothic windows made those ancient ruins shine with a radiant, yet melancholic light.
The silence was unbroken, save for the sound of the water, which made everything sway and resonate, caressing the ancient vestiges with its gentle, aqueous touch.

Gentle were the melodies of the ocean, creatures visible and invisible belonging to the marine realm.
They had taken possession of that monumental structure which bore so many memories, sorrows and joys that, over time, had merged into the very stones.
I daresay I could not express the awe I felt when I awoke with this vision in the middle of a summer night, after a harrowing and fierce thunderstorm.

Gentle were the memories of that vision, which I was certain had been a dream, yet at the same time I found traces of it.
It was as if I had slept in a submerged boat, beside those vestiges, and that a part of me had remained there.
And only my heart knew the truth, for I myself was not able to determine the veracity of the events, or whether it had all been born of my imagination, within my creative chaos.

The Submerged Temple might have been my soul in another life, or in a life yet to come.
Everything was nebulous in my mind. Memories came and went — sometimes slowly, sometimes rapidly — and I could hear thunderous roars but also gentle melodies.
Everything was chaotically swirling within my heart — emotions and sensations that belonged to no place and no time, except within my imagination and my memories.
Lisa