Worlds Within Worlds

The carved spheres spin in the heavens, worlds within worlds, spheres within spheres, coherent yet separate. The first is made of jade. A king and a queen move between the dragon’s claws. She wears a jade hair comb decorated with a golden harp, he a jade pendant. They share together the gift of uninterrupted time and dance within a ring of ancestral names lined with rows of forget-me-nots bordered by the colosseum.

On the second sphere a maiden glances to the atmosphere above, praying to unknown gods, worrying at a necklace of musical notes hung on a thread of pure light. She hopes. She prays. But her heart is as brittle as a glass bauble. She picks at the bunch of daisies; he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not. There is no certainty in her life and all that she knows is that everything is fresher after the rain.

“Dear gods have mercy and bring my love home safe,” she pleads, and yet with her next breath tumbles the thought, “or shall I take the journey into my own hands and dictate my fate. Surely every journey starts with a single step.” And thus she turns and turns again; a sphere inside a sphere, a world within a world.

The third sphere is made of earth and rock and sponge and sea. It hangs at the centre of it all, a beating heart. a keepsake locket containing a catalogue of memories and scars, and the people here know how to savour time. They live their lives with their backs to the sun. Toil and treasure go hand in hand for hard work and diligence bring their own merit. Holding up their tools, be it spade or spatula and hold it with patience. Time only flows one way and soon they will dance in Elysium’s colosseum with the gods, surrounded by forget-me-nots and the echoes of their life’s deeds will echoes through eternity.