(prompt: 'last' - 15/11/2019)

'Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee.'       John Donne (1572 - 1631)

How I wish I could claim ownership of these words; but while exploring this fortress, I hear them in the outback of my mind.

See that ornate window cover over there, across the flagstone walkway? Was it once a confessional for those trying to find their way to loftier places... like heaven, maybe? I know nothing of such matters, but I wonder. Imaginings grow out of proportion. Did I hear a soft rustle from the other side of that wall? As if habitual sounds of folds of cloth are shifting? Surely not.

I am shocked... and to be honest, fearful as well. This is such a place for fanciful thoughts. No denying that. Or is it the spirits of memories sliding by?

The urge is strong to step through the archway, or at least poke my head in and call, "Anyone there? Someone? Anyone?" But I don't. My reverence and awe for those who produced this fortress against the world are too intense. This is a haven; for its spiritual as much as physical intention. And yet, the stairs win the need to appease my curiosity. As if the crosses and bells on the landing high above are a magnet, drawing me ever closer to their mystery. The small bells chime with the wind as I climb.

The largest bell I've seen in my forever moves and rings once... only once. An ominous chill creeps through me and I find myself wondering - does it toll for me alone? It's bizarre. I'm unable to shake the feeling of unease, the belief this single knell speaks of despair. Up close like this, it's near-deafening, with a resonance like a physical blow. My heart quakes as it sinks into the abyss of the blackest hole.

The most fanciful thoughts crowd my mind. As if this one massive toll is shouting, "She's here. At last. Here to save us, after waiting through the agonies of the centuries. It's THE moment." I shake my head in sadness. No. I think not. An entire symphony of clamorous chiming would need to ring out for a welcome THAT joyous. IF indeed, joy was what it was. But the shout is wrong... a travesty. I am here to see this wondrous survivor for what I know will be the last time for both of us. The great time-clock of the world keeps ticking and it is almost upon the midnight of our souls, ready to engulf all. Then, in its wisdom and its own immaculate time, start anew.

The foe facing it now is different. The mighty bell has no answer, no deliverance from the Armageddon that awaits.

Author's note: Built in 1020, the Monastery of Saint Jovan Bigorski in Macedonia was destroyed by the Ottomans in the 1500s, restored in 1743, expanded between 1812 and 1825. Most of the old monastery complex was destroyed by a fire in 2009, while the new sections of the complex and church were saved. Reconstruction began in May 2010 with the goal of restoring the buildings as closely as possible to their original style.

Another author's note: No pic yet this week. Waiting on another artist's permission to use his wonderful photo - the inspiration for this piece. Will be back as soon as I can to edit (pictorially)... one way or another.

***GOOD NEWS***  The Pic is approved for me to use - sincere thanks  -

Photo credit: Igor Polkap Photography - 'Stairway to Heaven'

http://bit.ly/2QKH3Do