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If you have a piece of writing that you would like to contribute and which relates to Raoul - either directly or indirectly - please send me an e-mail.
A Return to the Depths
by Lorie Wyler, � 1997
An opulent temple of marble and gold glitters above
yet my place of reflection lies here below,
gliding silently over a misty lake
five levels beneath the Paris Opera House.
Here, at solemn command,
splendid gothic candleabras
once mysteriously rose and descended
...unquenched.
Shadows seem to linger here
and time stands still.
But, drawn by some unseen force,
I push even further into the gloom.
Only the sound of water
lapping endlessly against cold hard stone,
breaks the forbidding silence.
What is it that I hoped to hear?
...or not to hear?
Light is alien to the world
and confronted with a fleeting shadow in every turn.
I wrestle with a sudden terror
that what I encounter may not be me.
But I gesture wildly at the night
and the shadow responds assuringly,
then vanishes,
once again embraced by the darkness.
What had I hoped to gain coming back here?
The memories are still too fresh
...too painful
...even frightening
and a familiar voice inside my head
with frightening hypnotic power
laughs at my weakness,
mocks my ignorance,
shatters my pride,
...testing me always.
Is it the echo of a siren that beacons
in whose name I realize my darkest fear?
His presence hovers over me,
with me always, there in the dark,
calling...
calling...
From such thoughts I turn away.
I am a child of the sun.
My life is above,
lived in the comfort of the light.
What have I to learn concerning things of darkness?
They are but mysteries,
riddles and dark secrets I have wanted to leave alone.
Yet, something
calls me deeper and deeper
into this world of constant night.
One will go far seeking who they are
...what they are
searching out those Mysteries
that explain our reason for being,
hoping to silence the unknown terrors
that gnaw and tear at their heart.
Cast against shattered mirrors of dark water,
I shudder at my own reflection.
Who is it that I see?
Uneasily, I realize I do not know.
As the glint of light from the lantern
pierces the encompassing blackness,
memories long held at bay
are thrust sharply to mind.
And there in the dark water
I see the face of another,
one whose name remains silent
for I cannot speak it.
Above, one waits for me.
She is mine, but not entirely.
Part of her belongs to another,
and too long I have walked in his shadow,
the masked figure who ruled this domain,
whose genius created this mythical world,
whose anger against an inhuman world above
very nearly destroyed it.
Perhaps it is the Angel of Death
that I seek here in the shadows.
To feel at last that eternal silence
which halts the mindless voices of fear,
the continual churning of memories,
and endless nights filled with guilts and regrets.
I, who had known only beauty in my life,
of form and feature.
I never knew the stark reality
of an ugliness
that incited others to drive away.
I never felt the loathing for one's own face
or knew the deep emptiness of a life lived utterly alone.
I am no stranger to these depths.
I played a significant role in a unique experience here,
one side to a strange triangle,
in an even stronger story.
And it is not so much my account as it is his,
a commanding, yet disfigured genius,
bitter and estranged from the world,
a beautiful, naive, young soprano
and I, her protective, aristocratic lover...
Three people whose entire lives,
building, it seems,
to that tremendous moment,
that eternal confrontation with fate
when this young vicomte,
an "ignorant fool", so full of knowing,
inflated with pride,
unwittingly pitted against hell itself,
foolishly challenged the darkness
...and lived.
The horror of that moment passed
life, not so threatened,
thoughts descend more rationally.
Deep within this forbidden darkness
my own soul calls,
longing to lay, at long last,
a haunting memory to rest.
To find that part of myself,
lost, yet somehow, found
that fateful night
a young woman,
burst free of her own constraints,
and with an act of compassion
reclaimed the soul of another.
Willingly,
I descend once again,
deep within the heart,
to a place of the great Mystery,
where journeys of the soul both begin and end.
There I find an answer...
it is alone in the darkness,
confronted by all we fear,
we truly begin to know ourselves.
And what I experienced here, frightful though it may have been,
I am different because of it.
I only had to remember
and forgive.
I know why I am here,
and who has called me below.
Wounded hearts,
though beating not,
require healing.
A delicate glow from the lantern
heals the encompassing blackness
and a night of wondrous beauty
softly descends about me.
Shadows of fear give way to knowing
and marvelous tones of loveliness
silent to the ear,
yet heard by the heart,
begin to stir.
I hear it even now
within me and about me,
calling...
healing...
filling my soul with something
I had never known before.
I do not hurry through this darkness
for I shall never return.
But, in this luminous darkness,
The Angel of Music
stirs within my soul,
And, at long last, I whisper a name.
Erik.
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