Journey Across the Sky-Veil is a mythopoetic journey through a forgotten realm where the divine brushes the mortal. A nameless man awakens beneath a veil of sorrow and memory, guided by three silent goddesses across a path of signs, silence, and sacred trials. His quest is not to rise in power, but to remember his name—and the order of Being itself. This is a story of longing, wisdom, and the quiet majesty that crowns the soul.
The rose did not fade.
It pulsed gently in the strange satchel that had appeared out of nowhere while I slept. Aphrodite’s rose, the first gift I had received to place in my satchel, was light and steady, its warmth subtle—like the throne of rosy Dawn on the horizon. And I believed I then remembered—since the sudden appearance of Aphrodite by the pond. I was sure of it, yet my thoughts remained clouded. As I walked, I felt the land around me begin to stir. The Sky-Veil above and the land Beneath had not changed, not outwardly. The sky was still a dull dome. The moss still fractured beneath my steps. But something beneath it all had shifted. I was no longer wandering. I was drawn.
I passed an ancient wall, half-crushed and overtaken by crawling vines. Across its crumbling face, glyphs shimmered briefly as I passed: spirals, interwoven circles, a stylized rose with a flame at its center. When I turned to look again, they were gone.
Farther on, I came upon what appeared to be a small shrine—no more than a circle of stones surrounding a broken mirror. A strange sight indeed. It was set into the ground like an offering, the shards arranged like a shattered sun. When I knelt beside it, I saw not my older face in the glass, but the figure of me as a young man, eyes wide with hope—before I had become lost in the Grey-Beneath with everyone. Then the vision disappeared in a blink.
I left in silence. Another sign.
The signs multiplied: three feathers in perfect line on a ledge; a stone cracked into the shape of a lily; the remains of another harp with its strings vibrating sweetly. I did not understand, yet each stirred something deeper than thought.
These were not random curiosities. They were remembrances—the nearness of something that wanted to be remembered again. Presences recognized, not explainable.
The air grew thicker as I walked. I began to descend a gentle incline into a basin surrounded by smooth hills. Mist gathered there like a fog, but one with the hidden presence I had sensed—drifting low, circling the stones that rose from the ground like ancient sentinels.
And then I saw them.
Statues. Four of them, arranged in a half circle around the basin’s heart. Each was carved in exquisite detail. One wore robes, another armor. One carried books or scrolls. Another held a scepter and sword. But each one bore my face. Not quite as it was now—but as it might have been. Presented in ways I had never dared imagine.
I stood among them, my breath shallow. The Field of False Kings. I knew this place—not from books, but from something deeper. It had waited for me. Something stirred in my heart.
Each statue offered a different version of me. The one with books was tall and cold, wrapped in knowledge. The one in robes wept with grief, draped in regret. The one in armor grinned with charm, extending a golden goblet. The one with scepter rested on the hilt of his bloodied sword.
They were choices. Choices of a soul lost in the Grey-Beneath, desperately seeking destiny. I could see each choice and the outcome in each statue. Past, future, all in this moment of the present.
“These are your echoes,” a voice said behind me. I turned. She was there.
Athena-She of the Grey Eyes and Light.
She was as I had imagined her, cloaked in armor and finely woven cloth, her eyes flashing with ancient clarity that made the stone ruins of the Grey-Beneath shimmer.
“They are not what you were, nor what you will be,” she said. “These are what you might choose to become.”
I gazed at Athena in wonder and then turned slowly to look again at the statues.
“You must walk among them. Not to claim their future, but to free your past and present.” Her words buried themselves deeply in my heart. Athena’s gaze resonated in my being,
I stepped forward. With each statue he approached, a feeling welled up—desire, pride, fear, hope. One by one, I laid my hand on each and whispered two words I did not realize until they left my lips.
“Not me.” And the statue crumbled. Not violently. Not with anger. But like sand remembering it was never stone.
When at last I reached the center of the field, the mist cleared to reveal one more statue. It stood with hands empty. No books. No armor. No sword. Only open eyes, and a bare chest where a rose glowed, carved in soft light.
“To walk further,” she said, “you must see what lies behind the thoughts of the ‘everyone.’”
She offered a small object—no larger than the book of empty pages in my strange new satchel, now glowing with the gift of Aphrodite’s rose. It was a mirror-shard from the shrine I had passed, set in olive wood. I looked into it. I saw a flame. Not blazing, but focused. Not consuming, but revealing. Athena placed it in my hand and said:
“You will need this.” And then she vanished.
Only the statues—crumbled and silent—remained.
I turned. Aphrodite’s rose pulsed in my satchel. Athena’s shard, my second gift, radiated. The land beneath the Sky-Veil had changed.
The path of signs had opened. The Sky-Veil began to lift.
Enjoy “Athena - The Gleaming Lamp” from my album The Sky-Veil, available on my music site.
Purchase the album, The Sky-Veil here.
Lyrics ©Walter Emerson Adams. Music and vocals by Suno ©Walter Emerson Adams.
A voice behind him cried unseen ’Twas She of the Grey-Eyes and Light who spoke “The echoes, ways that could have been” “Are not what were or ever woke” In armor dressed as brilliant dawn Athena’s eyes bright grey, renowned They flashed with blooms and shone upon The fields Athena’s sparkling crowned She handed him a mirrored pane Its edges wood and gold display Athena spoke in language plain “Look in—reflect, you choose the way” Athena disappeared in night The man looked first to her then low The mirror held a distant light A gleaming lamp to guide and show