The Pyramids Of Giza – Journal Entry

Giza, Egypt  – 25/03/15

The wind blew strongly, drifting through the air, forever traveling, forever moving. The sand picked up, dancing in swirls and shapes, before flowing off into the sky and leaving its home. The roaring dunes drifted and moved with the wind, the whole ground constantly swaying back and forth, always in motion. Out on the horizon, I could see a merging of earth and sky, the world becoming one in an ever-reigning peace which filled the desert miles in each direction, the rest of the world disappearing with the time spent out in the plain vast region.

Then, there, breaking the silence of the desert, three huge pyramids reach for the sky, their stones crumbling and their tips withered. They stand tall and proud, not imposters, just commanders of the desert, rulers of this eerie land. Their glory days are buried deep underneath the sand dunes, which move swiftly as I write these very words.

Once they used to just be tombs, a place to sob or mourn, now a place to glorify a civilization, the very founders of the Mediterranean world. Deep inside their many layers of stone, lay unseen passageways and treasures, not all was taken by looters. There could be secrets and legends, stories untold, all hidden inside these very walls, which from a distance seem unreal and untouched. As you approach their massive bases, you understand the truth of these great monuments, the strength, the power in their very roots.

How could they have built these with no modern technology? The mystery forever lies underneath the sand, along with the rest of Egypt’s past. Egypt is such a dazzling place –  it moves with the sand, still nomadic and free. Every movement is based on the time of the sand, as if the world were a nomad, and the heart is this land.

The wind now blows strong, sand is covering my face, and I can hear the voice of the ancients whispering in my ear. I hear their chanting and their songs, hymns and sorrows, Anubis and Ra, and their hopes of tomorrow. Although they are long gone, their voices are still carried by these winds, which journey beyond the horizon to the new desert lands and new ends.

Once you enter the Sahara and you speak from your heart, your words will whisper into the winds and out to the children of tomorrow. This land is a continuation of people, of tribes and of lives, who come and disappear like a dune overnight. A sandstorm comes, a population gone, yet buried underneath somewhere, their stories are not forgotten. A mysterious aura lies over the enchanting Pyramids, as if they are warning us of something we don’t know.

Thousands of years ago, treasure hunters and looters came and pillaged it all, so the tombs remain empty, bare, and their treasures lost. Yet I feel so blessed to have had the chance to stand next to these massive stone monuments, to touch the enormous stone blocks, each a historical treasure, and to have been a part of their history – a visitor in awe, like so many before me and so many still to come.

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