• I feel like throwing myself upon the broken and weed-choked temple. The wind now blows from the east to the west easily between the cracked walls, giving the place an abandoned feel. And yet, it is not yet abandoned by its keepers. We howl with pain at every brick that crumbles. We can feel it within our bones, deep in our being. We scream with rage at the desecration around our home. We will never leave. We have vowed before our Goddess our life and blood. We can not leave. Her wrath is mighty and powerful. Those who have felt her power are blind, helpless and indistinguishable from the animals amongst the ivy-green temple. She has not left us, no, she is still here, amongst the ruins of her druids’ temple. I, Nimea, can feel her power, invincible and raging. It courses through my body to rage me more. She may have lost her mortal body, yet she is there within our very beings.

    We now howl and rage as one body as the last brick crumbles to the cracked stone floor. We offer prayers to our Goddess, whose power vibrates through the darkening sky to appear as marbled heaven. The sky rages to a crescendo of wind and cloud, and then dies away to nothing. We listen. There is nothing more. Has our Goddess finally left us? No dear parting words of wisdom for faithful relations? A single cry of despair lifts up to the wind. More join in. I, however, do not lift my voice. I, however, am still listening. I, however, can hear the Goddess. She speaks to me. Calls to me for assistance. She chooses me. I accept her. For I alone can hear her soft voice, pure and sweet among the strangled cries. She whispers for silence. I beckon the others silent by cursing the Goddess. As one they turn to me and curse my existence. I then declare myself to the Goddess, to take me from their pitiless stares. They rage more. They start to converge on me and only halt when the Goddess touched one aiming a rock. The crowd stared in silence as he turned instantaneously to a swine. The crowd drops as one to the dirt.

    We hear a soft whisper echo through the silence. It beckons us to follow its bodiless voice. We follow for minutes. Softly, the Goddess calls us to her forbidden abode. None dares to follow. I, however, sense her urgency. I feel she is using as little power as possible. She is saving it. She knows it is I that can go further than the others. In the air she whispers them quiet and still. My Goddess is now beckoning me nearer to her. It takes me what seemed like minutes to reach her abode. I push through flowering vines that magically open before me, step carefully around vegetation to finally halt before the most exquisite and beautiful Dias ever known. Her voice is calling from a single beam of light, spiralling up to the heavens and down through a waterfall’s pond. Slipping into the clear, pure water, I struggle to reach my Goddess as my heavy tunic clings to my body. My short limbs strained with each stroke and my hair fell limp against my shoulders, dark locks over my eyes. Her voice wishes me to swim deep to the pond bed, to cleanse my body and soul. I follow. My lungs resist the pressure of the deep water and I can swim down no further. I spin fast to the surface, gasp for breath and rest, only to be urged more to her waterfall’ light. I follow. Climbing from the pool to the rock-floored falls, I stand and hold my tunic to my body, to keep it from falling. Soaked, my Goddess beckons me to stand in the beam of light. I follow. Her voice echoes from the heavens, I raise my head and immediately feel her power.

    My body, racking with energy from her power, seemingly to break. I see only pure white light; feel only pure energy, need the power through my veins. It courses along my dark hair to bleach it new and pure. My eyes of hazel now crystal violet and bright, and lips a parted peach. Breasts resemble my dead sister and hips of my lifeless mother. Legs lengthen and arms slenderer, fingers long and soft. My abdomen heaves with unknown weight to fall as flat as possible. My lungs breathe pure air and heart pumps pure blood. The light tunnel brightens more as the last of the power is driven into my being. Images of knowledge pass before my eyes to be forced to my mind. Gold dew drops of light seep through my skin to be embedded to my body. At last, the power fades a little before it suddenly breaks, falling fast to my body to be absorbed. I need all the power there is to be taken. My tunic falls to the dirt and rubble. With the last ray of falling power, my immortal clothing is gracefully, softly placed on my new body, reborn soul and pure being. Looking down, finally, I am no longer in my secret abode, but before my loyal citizens where they fall as one at my magical arrival. I see the bowed heads before my gold-sandaled feet, I whisper softly for them to rise, to witness the rebirth of the Goddess. I am Aphrodite, Goddess reborn.