Summary

The narrative describes a transformative moment where oppressed women, symbolized by red robes, are liberated by a guardian figure, signaling a shift from darkness to light and the dawn of a new era.

Abstract

In a metaphorical tale of rebirth and hope, the story unfolds with a guardian standing at the precipice of change, overlooking a silent, lifeless valley that once thrived. The guardian, a symbol of wisdom and resilience, acknowledges the end of an era marked by greed and power, and ushers in a new beginning. The women, cloaked in red robes, have endured suffering and loss, yet they persist in their dedication to nurturing the planet with love and compassion. As the guardian sacrifices herself in a burst of light, the women discard their robes, shedding their past burdens and embracing their true selves, thus igniting a slow return of light and hope to the world.

Opinions

The guardian's sacrifice is portrayed as a necessary act to initiate change and transformation.
The red robes symbolize the women's endurance and unity in the face of adversity, as well as their diminishing strength and identity.
The narrative conveys a critical view of the past, highlighting

Spirituality

The Robes Are Falling

It’s a new dawn

They’re here, yet they’re not.

They’re hiding, sheltering for better times, perhaps because they’ve learned the lesson from a terrible past. But, the world needs them now, today, as humanity faces another tragedy. Just like yesterday, it was never any different.

I saw them, those silky red robes. Not long ago — something I wanted to share.

The guardian of all

It’s getting dark. She’s standing at the edge of an enormous cliff. Lost in thoughts. Her coarse attire is strangely familiar and at the same time unusual — like from eras long gone and distant realms.

Her hair is short and has turned into a glistening silver-gray. Her gaze wanders all over the land and down toward the valley. To meet with a disturbing silence that unfolds just below the cliff.

The small town — which is so perfectly hidden deep in the canyon — with its hustle and bustle seems extinguished. And with it all light. Not a single sound seeps through the air. A creepy gloominess has settled in and stretched its veil across all life.

A gentle breeze blows her way. But her plain brown tunic with its short sleeves remains motionless. It’s heavy, maybe made of cowhide or something alike. Gracefully, she towers on the cliff and softly sways her head. The struggle is over. Grief? “No,” she murmurs to herself, and without bitterness.

Although it’s an end, it’s only the very beginning.

“It’s time,” she whispers, which can hardly be caught. In her tender voice lies assurance — not that of a hunch, but that of certainty. She’s seen and witnessed it all. There’s no need for more.

Life down in the valley is lost and abandoned, fallen prey to greed and power and so much more. Nothing remains but long-lasting shadows of bygone times.

The ray of knowing

Though, sporadically, female bodies soundlessly scurry back and forth. Dressed in silky red robes that lack shape and style. Dull, they all appear, numbed or hypnotized. They’ve long lost their sense of walking through life with their heads raised up high. Instead, a pounding weight rests on their shoulders, not wanting to give way — like water jugs, balanced on heads, that never empty.

The power of these women is fading; the past has lingered for a long time. Too long, perhaps. With their final breath, it appears, they keep dragging on. Tired and weary. They’re united and yet separated in their pain of the many false deliveries they’ve had to witness.

But they’re still eager and willing to preserve this planet — and building towards its shining future with love and compassion.

Yet their strength and with it, their confidence is waning. Their suffering has been a journey with no end.

“It’s time,” she says once more, a little louder.

Her glance begins to drift away from the valley and the billowing robes. Away from the place where greed, violence, and hatred have butchered one another. How stupid, they may say in hindsight. And yet, it had to happen.

In a fulminant orb of spark, her head suddenly disconnects from her torso. The red robes shift their bodies and with them laboriously turn their heads toward the glow. They’ve caught her final words and now watch her disappear. They begin to understand.

“Our time has come.”

The return of light

It’ll take a long, long time. But with it comes the transformation humanity has been waiting for for so long. There’s no turning back. To where and what anyhow?

The past has had its time along with many dark grays. The future has now returned, and with it, a light of hope.

The robes reach for it like starving creatures. They sense its heat and the healing forces that lie within. They’ve given everything; they’re the moment that has emerged from the past.

Like tiny whirling feathers that slowly sinks, the first robes start sliding to the ground. Shapeless shells that conceal the abundance of all life underneath. The emerging women touch the light.

“It’s time,” it echoes again. The women without their robes now stretch their heads and minds in full. Their tired bodies swing back to life while the remaining shells are dropping, too.

And very gradually, hardly noticeable at first — the darkness begins to give way. Blandly, a faint glow emanates — like a ray of sunlight, which carefully breaks through a dense layer of clouds.

They finally return to who they truly are. They’re sisters of the guardian of all. Which they’ve been since and until the dawn of all times.

And with their return, a tiny blaze of a shivering light down in the valley is flaring up.

Timidly, yet unmistakably.

Thank you for reading.