Chapitre 18

Lioureline

More than eighty years had elapsed on the new island, without any eruption. At least on the surface, as under the sea to the north, the foundations of the future extensions were actively built.

Compared to the naked island of the beginning, it was already unrecognisable, even if it was still a bushy scrubland. The lichens were covering the low rocks and the grasses were running through all the cracks and hollows. With greenery, the basalt pinnacles were now looking debonair, and lianas were hiding the cave entrances under voluptuous masses of perfumed flowers. Water plants had covered the lake of the main crater, changing it into a kind of lawn of a beautiful tender green.

Already the plants were showing some evolution. The first arrived were chosen for their faculties to grow without soil in the cracks and hollows of the rock, or to cover it with a network of young creeping stems. These were retaining the soil formed by the decomposition of the oldest, like lichens and mosses, to surround the stone with a thin living skin which attacks it at the crystallization joints, slowly reducing it to sand. This preliminary work allowed to quickly create a kind of soil where more ordinary plants could now take root and somewhat displace the first.

The new island was still by excellence the domain of seabirds, mad with freedom and open sea, which only touch the ground for nesting. But already a production of berries allowed several species of forests birds to thrive and to marvel the mossy rock with their fresh poetry.

The Eolis were now more than two hundred inhabitants, mostly blue; the first cave was just sufficient, and two other villages were planned, in the vicinity of the first. All the friends of Lioureline had joined the island, which now offered the minimum for food and clothing: mushrooms, berries, cotton. And even the special fuzzy blue cotton for Lioureline was starting to flourish.

The problem of the clay for building the houses had been resolved elegantly, thanks to Nasachto and Inelounia and their friends on the eighth continent, with whom they exchanged letters regularly. A young Eolis couple of the eighth continent felt attracted by the Lioureline project. They came to settle on the island, where they still are today. Seeing the tiny khaki tents and the fine projects suspended, the Eoline exclaimed: «But there is no need for clay! There is much better!

- Oh, and what?»

- But look at what we use at home»

They explained: «It is a kind of coral powder finely ground by seabirds who feed on tiny algae.» (Reader friend, I cannot repeat how it gets to the Eolis!) «This dough is creamy, and it dries progressively in the air. It becomes even stronger than clay, and it resists rain for several years.

- Interesting!

- Oh dear!

- And in addition it has very pretty colours, according to the coral which formed it: pink, blue, and even mauve, in our islands. But elsewhere there is also orange or golden.

- But there is not enough coral on our island yet!

- It does not matter. There are many other coral islands in the area, right?

- On the reeds island there must surely be some blue coral, like the bananas.

- Bananas!

- And on the geodes island, I often saw some birds diving. There are all the colours, which the birds eat.

- Yes, perfectly, bananas. And blue, in more.

- But will the birds from here know?»

- Just ask them, as we do at home.

- How?

- It is simple, look.»

On the slab, in front of the cave, they spread old leaves in a large carpet. The pink Eolis of the eighth continent sat in lotus in the middle. «As they are not used to it, you have to make a circle around to help me.»

What they did.

A few days later, the blue cement started to arrive.

Imagine a vast blue portal, all in living forms and suave rounded shapes, covered with subtle iridescent variations of sky blue and mauve… All around flowery ivy was climbing, covering the roof with thick dark green foliage strewn with pale blue or indigo flowers. In front of the entrance, the ground was covered with light green moss, except the flagstone which was also plastered with pale blue. Disappeared, the austere rugged basalt! Gently rounded, the sharp angles in the rock! This flagstone was not in one part. It had formed from a fallen down part of the roof of the lava tube. So it went in several blocks separated with large cracks, as a rough pavement, fairly above the average level of the entrance ground. The cracks had been, not filled, but arranged as a funny tunnels game, balconies and pots for large light flowers.

Inside, it was still more beautiful. The ground had been covered with a delicate fine moss, and, on the blue walls, were scattered a number of small holes: the nests for the inhabitants. Here and there, hooks were used to lift and hang light flowers, and balconies for singing in the heights. The back of the cave was now a vast shelf, in the same size as for humans, but all in draperies, small columns and pendants. Small funny stairs and winches allowed the Eolis to haul up and down all kind of loads. These shelves were much more profound than large, as honeycomb cells; and the side walls were in turn covered with smaller shelves, on the Eolis scale, this time. This is really their innate sense of poetical storage and organisation!

Before, the ground was roughly flat, but only nearby. A patient filling work flattened it completely, except some bumps where the moss did not grew: they were only plastered in mauve, as the entrance pavement, and arranged in platforms and rostrums. The largest, on the right side just after entering, was used for the meals, and was overhung with a half sphere used for storing the utensils.

Surprise: it happened that, along the left wall, there was a sort of recess in the irregular rock, together with a hollow in the ground. This recess had been enhanced and poetized, with a thick masonry and building all around, giving it the shape of a shell or conch, with blue and mauve rays. The hollow in the ground was prettily paved with round gravels, pink or white, which were patiently gathered from the north part of the island. And this basin was… filled with water. A delicious water, where the Eolis used to wash all together in the morning, and several times all along the day, between gardening sessions, and even at night. This water was filtering into the gravels and feeding a true miniature water table, in the whole cave and in the front ground, to the delight of the moss which was growing here marvellously, so much that it needed to be mowed. Once out of the cave, the water was flowing all along the slope, covered with moss bellies or giving life to gardens and hollows with weed and water animals.

But this water, where was it coming from? Of an outlet in the cave, in the very middle of the conch, just wide as two Eolis and high as one. From here the water was pouring, first in a small basin, then in the large one, by a singing cascade. The small basin was used to take water to drink, without it being troubled by the bath.

But this outlet? It was a tunnel. They took the effort of painting its whole walls in mauve, even if it was completely dark. In facts it was not needed to see, just to feel one's way along, as its cross section was sufficiently even. The water was running in a small ditch, not in the ground, but at half height of the wall, to avoid trampling in it. This tunnel was of an incredible length, hewn out of the hard basalt: What an enormous work, for such small creatures! What a patience! How do they do, to thus perforate this compact rock where steel breaks? But you want to know everything! How were built the megaliths and the pyramids? Another time, perhaps, friend reader. I had not the chance to learn this myself. Anyway it is surely not scientific.

The tunnel was coming from the workshop cave, of which the small spring had been thoroughly harnessed. So the water could be used in both caves, and they could walk from one to another, safe from the rain.

The furnishing of the workshop cave, even if it was not really complete, strongly resembled the one of the first cave, and it was as much marvellous. But the plan was different. It was also a lava tube, a little bit smaller, forming a large rocky fold along a gentle slope with already some trees. This tube was pierced in several places, forming windows, and on the outer walls there were shelves ornamented with succulent plants with very small green thick leaves. They flowered at time of rain, creamy white with a golden heart, and then dried up while keeping their beauty several months. With the mauve lichens, they formed a lively and superb rocky garden!

The inside of the workshop cave was long, tortuous and sloping, as a stair with successive flats. The lowest part was fairly well lighted, and it was used for various activities of rain time: weaving, sewing, decoration, carpentry, masonry store, painting, iron tools work... Each activity had its space and its storage, disposed in a circle around it, kind of crater itself all in cells, draperies and stalagmites up to the ceiling, always in this superb blue cement: here everything was rational AND marvellous, organised AND fancy, efficient AND simple.

As in the first cave, stairs and eccentric passages were running here and there, getting around columns, piercing stone draperies, avoiding places, running along bold bridges made of ropes suspended to the ceiling and plastered, the whole thing in curves, voluptuous and living shapes, blue, indigo, mauve, inlaid with thousand rainbow coloured shells, flat, spiralled, pointed, radiant… A jewel of undulating curtains and curious hangings, in front of which the palace of one thousand and one nights would not withstand the comparison!

(Let us note that the style of the Eolis always remain simple and harmonious, even if sometimes it is overloaded with an incredible amount of decorations)

Towards the middle of the cave, a well-lit space had been set up as a meeting place, all decorated with stalactites and mother-of-pearl, with even a few dwellings, and of course a comfortable pantry assiduously frequented during rain works! Here was where the tunnel went, which followed a rather tortuous course according to the whims of the terrain. It was here that the water trickle was divided, as it also supplied here a pretty bowl for the bath, all smooth and blue.

The end of the cave, where the small source was coming from, was more subterranean, without windows, and so unusable for workshops. What had the Eolis done with it? They had carefully walled it, leaving only a small door and a gutter, identical to the one of tunnel, but covered, to keep it clean. And in this vast enclosed space, wet, dark and deliciously fresh, that our Eolis were making? But mushrooms, of course! And not small ones, these big fatty pale blue mushrooms called lampanions, so delicious! They were not chosen for their taste, or even not for their colour, but for the low luminescence they produce, allowing them to spot them in the cave, where it was hard to see.

All day long, from the bottom of the mushrooms cellar to the gardens along the stream, everything was rushing with activity, laughter and joyful songs... Without stop, on the path which goes up from the gardens, in vast hoods they carried debris of vegetable matter into the mushroom cellar. There they followed a footbridge of rope, intended to be moved as needed, and they poured their load on a heap which was gradually stretching up; and they returned with in the hood some excellent compost, and made the same journey in the opposite direction. All the wastes of coral mortar were also carefully collected, as they were a very welcome limestone amendment in this land.

From the main cave perpetually emanated, by day, a soft murmur, a rustle of fresh and airy acute voices: we did not spoke, we sang, we whispered a sound carpet, without strong moments, not to catch the attention of those who meditated permanently, sitting in a circle on the platform near the entrance. Right next to it were musical instruments: strings stretched directly on the rock, of which one played with an archer, in a continuous and immaterial breath. Each note had about twenty strings with slightly shifted chords in order to make the sound more lively, softer, as for the hearts of voices.

The workshop cave was little frequented by sunshine, but there always were Eolis coming and going and looking for some tool or ingredient, chanting or laughing.

The meals saw the Eolis gathering joyfully on the rock in front of the grotto, laughing and speaking merrily at noon, or in a gentle silence at night.

And in rainy weather? I know that many Earth readers do not like rainy weather. It is not that he is sad by itself, but being Yin, it more easily allows the various regrets to stand out, or the feeling of incompleteness of a factitious life. True happiness is not altered by the grey sky; realized beings, when they enjoy their full energy, are as much happy and dynamic at sunset, and the rainy weather does not alter their good mood. They know how to appreciate the restful and vivifying softness, freshness of the rain. On Earth, in rainy weather, if it is not too cold, the forest is greener, and it stretches voluptuously under the caress of the drops. Everything breathes, everything revives. A multitude of small animals, frogs, snails, salamanders, come to «tan» under their moist «sun», and the mushrooms also benefit of it. What is abnormal is cold or drought, both anti-life.

The only big inconvenience of the rain on Earth is the grisaille. But the eye of the poet can see beyond, in nature, a subtle harmony of mauves, blue, turquoise and green. The Eolis do not see the grey, in fact. Their eyes perceive the same wavelengths of light as we do, and they put on them the same fundamental colours, red, green, blue, with only small differences. But they do not match wavelengths and colours in the same way. Yes, if one says that one wavelength is the red light, it is very convenient, but it is also an abuse of language: this light has this colour only for the eyes of the humans, who see it red ! For bee eyes, for example, it is invisible, while these insects see the ultraviolet... Of which colour?

The Eolis do not see the grey, and all the less no dirty or dull colours. This is only a matter of correspondence between stimuli (wavelength) and feeling (colour). For them, a kind of mauve replaces the grey, and where we see dirty or ugly colours, they see dark colours but with an inner light such as indigo, intense purple, sienna, dark green... But on the other hand, the relation between feeling (colour) and vibration (effect on the soul) happens to be very similar for them and for us, and this is what makes the world of the Eolis so close to ours.

When the human eye sees only a greyish rock, only a fully unfolded sense of poetry can distinguish blue or purplish shadows, golden lichens, when all this looks obvious to the Eolis. Some great painters on Earth (Especially the impressionists) translated these subtle colours in their art works, and persons with their mind maimed by prosaicism or «realism» believe that these works are just imagination, or the effect of drugs! However it is these persons who do not make the slight effort needed to see these sur-real colours, even if these colours are objective and perfectly perceptible to whoever agrees to consider them! Very young Earthling children perfectly see sur-real colours: Consider your oldest memories, friend reader, and you will have evidences of this. With this kind of little experiments, you can see that there are really important realities which are occulted by our civilization. The vision of childhood quickly fades… Perhaps if we were more attentive, perhaps if we were more poets, perhaps if our world was less loudly coloured, less concrete, less aggressive to the eye, less jumble, more harmonious…

It may be a mater of mentality. Indeed, our sensory organs have been shaped over millions of years, depending especially on what we do with them... The appearance of sur-real colours, which require an act of will to be seen, could perhaps be the forerunner of a new mentality, which will lead human evolution a little further. One day we will be more sensitive to Poetry, and our eyes will become naturally sensitive to these colours, and to many other things of which we are ignorant today.

One of the reasons why few people see (or discover) the sur-real colours, is that the Earth eyes crush these subtle differences, for reasons of adaptation to various light sources. We can get a touch of it by contemplating, for example, the snow, or the mist, at twilight, the nose on our window. It seems white, even if the sky is already dark. But if we step back into the room and light the electric light, or rather a candle, then the little square of snow in the window looks very blue: The eye has become accustomed to the yellow light of the candle. Note in passing that rendering the natural colours of objects despite a coloured light is a very nice performance of our vision, which requires the retina to perform several billions multiplications per second!

The eyes of the Eoli are more complete than ours, and they can at will «accommodate» in both ways: to restore at best the intrinsic colours of objects independently of light, such as our Earth eye, if the Eoli is active. Or, as soon as he is relaxed or meditative, to perceive all the subtle harmonies of the varied lighting of the landscape. This change of mode is produced automatically by the state of consciousness. An Eoli can thus let his eyes (and other organs) change his mode by reflexe, at each change of his state of consciousness, but he can also voluntarily control the accommodation. What a subtlety! What a precision, at the service of Beauty and Happiness!

Thus the basalt, which appears dark grey or grey-brown to us, gives to the Eolis a whole purplish harmony, until the brown-red; the cloudy sky is enriched according to time with a palette of yellow pastels, or blue and mauve, sometimes green, just as for the poet Earthling, while in fact it emits exactly the same luminous radiations as ours. Conversely, the magnificent colours of the different races of Eolis (brown, mauve, blue, pink, orange, copper, plus all the half-breeds...) would not appear as beautiful to our visual organs. Hence the interest, to truly understand a planet, to incarnate oneself in a body adapted to it...

Hence also a certain vanity of the idea of interstellar journeys by means of machines transporting our bodies of flesh. ⚠ We would look fine there, with our huge hooves in the miniature villages. And our space suits, as, even if the air of Aeoliah is perfectly breathable to us Earthlings, we should be protected from the wonderful floral essences for us toxic or stinking like plastic; we should be careful not to taste the delicious murlines (a kind of Aeolian blueberries) so rich in cyanide, of which the Eolis make daily feasts; we would need to carefully protect ourselves from the smallest Aeolian microbe, which never made a single Eoli sick, but, from not finding at our contact their familiar chemical signals, they would consider us as heaps of compost: ⚠⚠ Aeoliah humus would burn us as vitriol... Still some amateurs?

 

Yes really, extraordinary things do not necessarily arise only of complicated or bizarre technical hypothesis, but of the little adaptation of an organ. Within our reach anyway, as our human eyes potentially possess the same faculties as the ones of the Eolis, still embryonic, but which can be developed with meditative or artistic work. They will be one day genetically programmed, as the repeated desire from generation to generation can end up changing the body shape and even the genes content. Here is the true engine of the evolution.

 

By rainy weather, two day a month in the tropical regions, some Eolis, sitting in front of the windows, are looking for hours. Drops fall on the moss with a soft muffled noise. Above their heads, yellowish or pinkish stratus stream slowly. Smaller clouds, mauve, jagged, swirl at lower altitude. From the hollows between the hills, arise blue or turquoise dews. Trees slowly drip, there is a sweet fragrance of wet earth and mushrooms. A friend comes, and dash to take shelter, out of breath and laughing as from a good joke. Colours under the rain are fresher, more spruce, as if the scenery was getting out of the bath, clean, light and invigorated. Rocks are purple, greenery is greener than ever, shadows are of a deep blue green, turquoise, ocean, gentle harmony brightened up by the orange sun of a workshop window, from where at times come merry laughing or the livery rhythm of an activity. Birds too sing; they sing otherwise, they sing anyway. Everything is still.

 

By rainy weather, it is difficult to garden, and these so active Eolis gather in workshops to do altogether weaving, sewing, and other indoor activities. They love it! With their two caves connected by the tunnel, their well-lined warehouses, their spring, they were completely autonomous. The workshops of Liourelin's island were buzzing, but in a kind of song. It was somewhat difficult, but they managed, to do every exclamation, every noise in the rhythm and as much as possible in the Harmony. They had to carefully study their looms and other machines: every part able to give a sound from shock, especially the bats ant the shuttle, had to be tuned into the selected mode, and this was not easy. But the Eoli instrument-makers and carpenters are crafty and persevering: they achieved their purpose. Even laughter had been somewhat harmonised, but not completely: we cannot laugh under control! It would spoil the thing!

The nicest moment, under the rain, is the evening: slowly the trees drown into a purplish mist, the melodious blackbirds are in their sweetest modes, while the windows glitter with orange. We are saturated with scents of humus or wet hairs, and we happily find again the merry atmosphere and warm scents of the houses.

 

After the rain, for one day or two, the merry sun shares the sky with small cumulus. Then the immensely pure blue sky recovers its full splendour.

The Eolis of the Liourelin Island sing a lot. It is not enough to say this. A wanderer strolling through the gardens would catch in every place a different crystal clear voice, ornate with little bells laughter, the ones of the blue Eolis are still more aerial, punctuated with the fast flop-flop-flop of their fluttering flight. The first cave was perpetually inhabited with a high pitched hum and with a gentle violin, as a poetical hive.

And also, when, in some passage, Eolis going in different direction pass each other, there are merry dancing and undulating salutations. Lioureline had planned many rituals or ready-made gestures, for any circumstance of the daily life. Oh no cold politeness or rigid conventions: for each case there was a large choice, and especially, for the Eolis, the ready-made gesture is only a canvas, a pretext where one embroiders following the fancy of the moment. And about fancy, the Eolis never lack of it! And verve and humour no more! So unprepared gestures, incomplete gestures or gestures in kit also appeared, definitively not planned in the beginning! It is alas difficult to describe these sketches, for instance when two Eolis meet in the dark tunnel (Privileged domain of the groping hands, oh who is the owner of this buttock?), where Poetry, Gentleness and Tenderness have the largest share, otherwise laughing alone would be quickly heavy and boring.

So, in the evening meal, inside the cave, where people do not speak, arose a very gentle ambient, filled with smile, glittering eyes and poetical connivances, in the bluish light of the dying day, then in the orange light of the light-flowers which light up… Those who knew the beginning of the island then remember the gentle evenings under the tents…

Later, the song resumed, or rather a mantra, as most of the time it was only an aaaa or a ammmm indefinitely sung by all the mouths, an aaa marvellously happy to stay here in a so beautiful universe…

Still later, it was only a soft and tender mmmm. Then some went flying toward the nests at the top of the walls to go to sleep, while other just kept silent, far away in their meditation...

 

And Liourelin, what was she doing? Most of the time she was gardening, to acclimatize new plants or flowers, or simply in one of the common kitchen gardens. Her enthralling presence was always much appreciated. This village was only a first step. More than ever they had to still reinforce the dream of the island, and for this lengthily meditate at night. Most often these meditations were silent, in the cave. But sometimes they went all together in some remote sunny terrace, and they discussed passionately of the future projects, and they were getting enthusiastic, and commenting still further, crying with laughter all together!

Also, sometimes, Lioureline and other Eolines or Eolis went in small groups to travel the island up and down, completely naked for a better communion with nature. Other times if was true collective expeditions which lasted several days, in an intense communication from hearts to life!

Only the surroundings of the village were really cultivated by the Eolis. Everywhere else on the island, they did only selection, as already seen. The island was still looking poor, with only some bushes. Anyway trees were planned small, not to look out of proportion besides the rocks and the future villages. In fact there were not enough caves to host all the inhabitants that the island could feed. Anyway, the Eolis feel really fine only with the sky above their heads. Caves were good for great workshops, so they would be reserved for this use. Most of the villages would be constructed in a more classical way.

 

Among the inhabitants of our village of the seventh continent, Anthelm was the more assiduous to Lioureline's island. He was still passionate with ecology. He could enjoy this to his heart content. Very numerous species of plants (six thousand, perhaps) had stepped on the island, fifty birds and more than two thousand insects, without accounting the aquatic beings. It would be impossible for an human mind, and also for an Eoli mind, to follow the details of the complex web of relations between all these beings. But in facts, the greatest part of the harmonizing had been done by the spirits of the places.

The action of the later is not mechanic, chemical or biological; it is however very important into the living nature. Each living soil is a formidable reservoir of seeds of a large variety; each plant wears many more latent buds that it could ever be able to express. If abstract entities cannot create a seed or a bud in the right place, they can on the other hand influence which seed or bud will actually develop. And, in place of growing in a tangle, the shape of the plants find hidden regularities, not immediately apparent to the eye, but bearer of vibrations that we can really feel.

The spirits of the places cannot create a landscape by themselves, they cannot transform a steppe into a Normandy orchard; but their subtle but constant influence ends up expressing in a visible and concrete way their Poetry, their life, their vibration.

They can also intervene into the repartition of the existing species, of their neighbourhood and mutual help relations. Thus they play a fundamental role into the harmonization of ecosystems, even with more influence that the only material regulations! Nothing astonishing to that, as the later generally admits a large number of solution, which need no more energy the one as the other to actuate. They just have to choose...

So we understand the fervour of the Eolis when they think about these abstract beings, incite them to come, give them directives, and then thank them for all their gifts!

We must remember that the spirit of the places are not a clan of all identical beings; this word in fact stands for a considerable variety of abstract presences of different origins and natures, some of them being engaged in enterprises with rather unexpected outcomes.

We can check their action on the Earth itself, where we often find purely natural landscapes, yet clean and harmonious like gardens. This goes further than just appearances: in such privileged places there is sometimes an ambiance, a force, than the Humans who accept to be aware can feel, which is able of subtle but profound effects on the mind. Such places, with their trees, their grass, their flowers, their fragrances, their birds, their humus, their rocks, are true living beings with whom we can communiate pleasant and important things. Some are real books, where we can read wisdom with the eyes of the spirit, others are Fountains of Youth, others tell virtues, keep the flame of Hope, heal bruised hearts, or are places where the spirit blows stronger than elsewhere… Some are even able to act on material events, or are visible under the form of elusive lights, called spooklights, korrigans, elves, etc. In a way they are the physical bodies of abstract beings. What a suffering if they are destroyed! What an inexpiable crime, if we build a highway there! How sad when tourism and noise make them become languid and loose their life, their magic!

This is why the hermits, some monks, the naturists, etc. always seek the wilderness. We need to leave everywhere at least a quarter of the landscapes totally virgin of anything artificial, even of fields, and to suppress all these abominable towns. Because the tree, the blade of the grass, the rock, all know the meaning of life and the why of the universe, and they tell us in their silent language... Thus depriving oneself of contact with nature (or worse, living there without communing with it) produces serious illnesses: we can become financial, bureaucrat, exploiter, «like everybody else», and still more horrible diseases.

On Aeoliah, no risk, but full splendour: the souls of the places lives with all their magnificence, all their sovereign beauty. They distill different atmospheres, but always superb and poetic. Some privileged places also enjoy strange powers...

The birds and the Eolis choose their places of habitation, activity or meditation, according to their particular notes and vibrations. Also, depending on the place, different plants grow: the atmosphere is not only abstract, it also expresses itself concretely by a harmony of forms, colours, perfumes, which can vary within a distance of only some steps. Thus, in a homogeneous space, for example a plain covered with forest, several different styles of forest can neighbour together, each with their ecosystems, their flowers, their birds, which do not mix. These differences are often the result of the life of the spirits of the place. If we search well, we can see this on Earth, especially in the still intact parts of the Amazon. But the places often differ in their background: the nature of the rocks, the slope, the exposure, the water... Each rocky corner, every river fold can have its own life, and the Eolis often call the places after the vibration we can find there.

On the island of Lioureline, all this was not yet well differentiated. Left to itself, nature would undoubtedly become a rocky pine grove thriving with thyme and resin. But she needed FAIRY and there would be! It was not yet visible concretely, but the nice songs and the rituals of the Eolis were already contributing. What began to operate was the special atmosphere of the place around the village. The gardens were both invigorating and relaxing, all together for the plants and for the gardeners, on a beautiful green and cool vibration which undulated between the lungs and the kidneys and gave you a joyful envy, whom to garden, which to grow!

 

Near the cave, a beautiful blue fairy reigned with the perpetual singing, done in chorus by all the Eolis present in the area, during their activities or sitting in contemplation, among the violet and fragrant bursts of lianas covering the rock.

Higher up, different places were planned. The Aroban one day came out of a fissure, over the future silent and shady garden. One of the pinnacles of rock bore a light flower. These would be places of calm and meditation, shaded, silent, discreetly perfumed. On platforms or backed by rocks, the sites of future villages were awaiting.

 

That day, it was not Anthelm who was visiting the island, but Liouna, accompanied by her companion Algenio. For the latter, the memories of the past were not his concern any more! He just had, like Liouna but for other reasons, to leave the Eoli childhood earlier, and become an Eoli in all his fullness. This sort of timidity which we knew him had disappeared, to be replaced by a calm but frank good-nature. He was one of those innumerable Eolis whom we do not particularly notice. Liouna also could pass completely unnoticed, for whoever would not know her very special talents.

Both were always dressed in simple long indigo indigo dresses, with their rather short brown hair (for Eolis)

Lioureline and her companion Boronnée always discreet at her side, were waiting for them, to depart for an excursion towards the summit at the north of the island. He was dressed in dark blue, and her of a simple blue travel dress, her immense hair retained in a kind of hood. The rain was not in sight for two weeks, so they carried almost nothing, only anti-dew blankets.

We guess that Liouna came to the island to see in practice the creation of a world in miniature.

It was an early morning, just after the sunrise prayer and the meal. The sky was especially bright, the air clean and light. An ideal day to run in nature... How easy and entraining to walk, to climb in the grasses and in the rocks! But they had to fly above them, for this time they were going around the island. With a light load, an Eoli can go far, provided that he lands and eat delicious berries from time to time.

They went near the first crater, now surrounded with bush. How did frogs managed to come here? Lioureline explained that an Eoli of the fifth continent went with eggs concealed in one of these water bags they use for long travels. He and his companion had to keep the bag between them, to avoid it freezing from high altitude. They arrived just in time for hatching.

 

Thanks to more evolved plants, the lake had recovered its transparency, with near the bank kind of purplish lotuses, plus lianas which make their roots in the water and which cover the rock. Once ago completely green, this place was now flowered and perfumed. From time to time a fish touched the surface, in a coloured glimpse. Nobody never guessed how these beings arrived here, and it was really difficult to figure out, as one of the species was viviparous, and it was really a challenge to bring a living alevin in a water bag. Discreet feat of anonymous Eolis? Great travel in a bird's beak? Or… Or there are really mysterious things on Aeoliah.

The vibration of this place was deliciously fresh, enlivening and calm, in an harmony of water greens and shadow greens. Soon it could get a name. An idea in the air was to build some sorts of discreet small kiosks, hidden in the greenery, just at the water level, with stairs to get here without making noise. In the shadow of the thick lianas, the golden green light was coming from the water, the bottom being illuminated by the sun. From time to time fishes were doing gloop noises. Friend readers, please hear what I shall tell you just in your ear: go and enjoy the fresh and mysterious vibration of some moss covered fountain, in the heart of a forest… It is…

The lake ecosystem was not yet stabilized, and this had delayed the project about kiosks. They had to wait that the vibration would be still stronger, and also the growth of a small forest right on the northern side. The life in the lake was now sustainable, and thus it could perpetuate itself without any other care, unless to still better it. When looking in the water, appeared first a false algae bottom, about one metre deep, sunny and strewn with strange underwater flowers. These algae had long stems, and they yielded oxygen and the basis of fish food. The later preferred to eat the sunniest part, thus regulating the depth of the foliage. Their wastes were falling lower, under the foliage, about five metres deep, in a water rich with bacteria, and still lower, forming a kind of humus of which algae fed in turn. This humus was able to slowly dissolve the rock, five or ten metres in depth depending on the place, freeing the precious trace elements, to the delight of all these beings... There were numerous other forms of life, water insects, frogs whom tadpoles were living under the false bottom, small multicoloured snails strutting about on algae, moss hiding the bank rocks, water flowers, grasses loving to grow near water, and, in the very bottom, very curious worms and other animals, some of which spend their time to shuttle up and down to bring air, thus feeding this rich medium in indispensable oxygen. Even at this depth, the water, as coloured as tea, had neither unpleasant smell nor dirt smell. It must be said that the fermentation bacteria and the Eolis are closely adapted the one to the other: the firsts, not being dangerous for the seconds, do not need to signal their presence by disgusting smells, as ours are doing on Earth.

At time of rain, the excess water was pouring in a narrow volcanic cave, and went out lower, on the northern side, feeding another lake, that we shall see further.

The shores of the lake and the top of the first volcano, covered with flat rocks, had only little verdure, but a marvellous harmony between the rock, the lichens, the flowers, and a sort of purple thyme, pushing to widen the cracks. This place more or less had its definitive appearance, except for trees to the north which were still awaited. Unlike the lake, the vibration here was warm, dry, restful. The view stretched, interspersed with a few trees, far across the island, towards the ocean, from which rose a gentle breeze laden with iodine, which caused the flowering umbels to swing. Here vibrated the call of the open sea, of space, of Liberty!

They stayed here the whole day, almost without speaking, communicating only by smiles... From times to times they came down the slope, to find berries to eat. For the water, no problem... They did long meditations near the lake, where several spirits of the places had already elected domicile, finally giving its magic to this place. Oh, we do not really talk with the spirits of the places, but in meditation we can be in communion with them, we feel their presence, their vibration, and they take care of ours, which they can amplify and fix much more effectively than we alone. If there are magical places on Earth, we often owe it to certain more enlightened humans, who worshipped them, nourished them with their Spirit, entrusted them with their hopes and dreams. The author has found one twelve thousand years old... But shhht... This is a great and beautiful Mystery! Then think at Aeoliah, the tremendous power which can be accumulated by places of enlightenment like Irizdar, or even larger ones, when their occupants, aided by the Cosmic Elders, pray there and act in Harmony for ten or twenty millions of years!

 

They spent the evening near the edge of the little lake, on the rocks overhanging it. There, beneath their marvellous sky with its golden ark, they squeezed together, their eyes lost in the stars. The breeze sometimes brought the fresh and vivifying air of the ocean, sometimes the warmth thyme perfumed rocks that the Sun had warmed up all day. There were no crickets on the island, but in the twilight the frogs made a concert, which lasted, interspersed with silences, until the ring went out completely.

But at this late hour, our friends had fallen asleep for a long time, wrapped in soft leaves, under a little tent which awaited them a little lower between two sloes.

 

The next day at dawn, they each took a dip in the delicious water, and then allowed themselves to dry, naked, admiring the rising sun. They flew away at once to the north, where the pink silhouette of the second volcano was standing. They nonchalantly went down the gentle slope, stopping to fill themselves with plums and murlines, or to communiate with nature, or to say hello to a spirit of the place installed in a lava bell. It was only towards midday that they reached the pass which separated the island in two parts.

This place was the boundary between two different worlds. In the south, the first basalt island, violet, low, all in gentle slopes and rounded rocks, with the round lake at its summit. Small trees were already growing here, among bushes from which emerged rock pinnacles with bizarre forms. Already the vibrations were awakening, sweet connivances and tender memories were loading the recesses and flats. There was no beach, and the dark rocks were dipping their feet in the clear water, fringing with a kind of sock of brightly coloured corals, undulating frieze, dominated by aquamarine and yellow. But to the north, the second volcano was raising, with some recent reefs, in a still harsh and mineral world of sand and pink gravel. This cone was not regular, as several explosions had upset it during its edification. It formed a tight group of pink hills, with some almost closed valleys in its centre. A great abundance of pink slag had been projected around, forming beaches and gentle slopes at the foot of the volcano. For the time being, only tall yellowish grasses were growing here, where the wind of the sea gently whispered on a background of perfect silence. Between the first basalt island and the island of pink sand, a small valley slipped from east to west. On the east side, it led to a beach, with just above the second lake in a hollow of rocks. On the west side, it ended on a cove with a lagoon, for the moment planted with palm trees.

If the northern part was neglected, it was mainly because of the still to come eruptions. The idea of burning lava breaking on tender greenery was repugnant to both the Eolis and to the spirit of the planet. However some herbs and some other plants had attempted the adventure, as they sometimes do. Even if it was temporary, at least this place was sweeter covered with meadows.

Our friends prayed for the rest of the day, near the small lake, nestled between rocks. Unlike the first, round, deep and steep-sided, this second lake was nested in a slightly triangular hollow, surrounded by bread shaped rocks warm with sun. Some even formed ravishing little islands. The bottom was of clear sand, and the algae lived there in tufts touching the surface. Between the rocks and around them stretched tiny meadows covered with blue flowers and violets, ending on small beaches, or on tufts of plants on the banks of the water. Yellow or pink aquatic flowers nestled in the corners, or highlighted the banks.

There was no mystery in this naive and luminous beauty, it was a little fairy lake full of sunshine and vibrations of happiness. The view towards the sunrise was splendid, and the grassy flowery meadows descended gently towards the ocean, strewn with rocks or clumps of gorse in the damp hollows. This place was so beautiful and lively, that they chose to install one of the villages nearby. Not just by the lake, which had to remain natural, but slightly apart, among the rocks, where already some tents were awaiting the visitors. The lake itself would be a place of bathing, but above all of communion with the life-giving Beauty of nature. For this reason, it was planned not to speak near it, and this rule already applied, even if in their solitude our friends did not disturbed anybody. The poetry of a sacred place is well worth this little effort, which the Eolis performed spontaneously, without even having to think at it.

In the evening they found themselves back near this delightful lake; but here the frogs do not perform a concert, only a few aquatic noises or isolated calls. A little apart, on one of the rocks, pressed against each other, our friends evoked at length the future landscape. There would be trees, but away from the lake, up towards the pass, or towards the north. There would begin the great sacred forest which would cover the second volcano and its hills. The lake already had its almost definitive aspect, it just lacked a few bridges with fairy curves leading on the islands, and some passing ducks. A sort of blue pagoda awaited its builders on one of the rocks, and others a little farther, toward the village with more discreet small blue houses. A little above the village, at the edge of the tall trees rising towards the second volcano, between the slender silhouettes of the pagodas, the dome of a large blue temple would dominate the gently sloping prairie.

Such dream landscapes are quite common on Aeoliah, and we would already be content with it. But it was still needed to give this one its fairy-blue vibration, singing and poetic, typical of Lioureline's island. And for this to meditate at length, to speak to the spirits of the places tempted by the adventure, hoping that soon some would come to settle here. All this would doubtless take centuries to be accomplished. For the moment, everything was conditioned by the future eruptions, which would occur further north but could have effects until here. The Eolis, and certainly the spirits of the place also, felt, as a corollary of the sense of danger, a kind of expectation of things which are not yet ready, not yet fixed.

 

They spent the night in the tents erected near the lake, and the next morning found them near the shore. What a wonderful place to admire the sunrise! Here it was greeted with sweet chirps of gentle little birds, moving as a child talking about serious things. For now, these songs were not yet fully vibrating, but they would become quite fairy-tale when the small valley would be framed by tall trees where other calls would ring, thus offering the ethereal reverberation of a vast space.

The four Eolis turned their gaze towards the north, stopping to contemplate a sumptuous forest with secret depths and mysterious echoes, to see slopes of stones and gravels that they were now going to climb.

Under one of the tents were waiting little gourds with straps, which they filled with water for the day, plus a bag in which they stuffed sun-dried sloes.

They reached the summit late in the morning. In this desert of stones and pink sand with very permeable soil, no water had yet allowed any grass to take root. The fire of the earth had shaped several hillocks, separated by valleys. The largest was in the middle, leading to the Levant, through a rather narrow indentation. This little natural circus, although still devoid of any vegetation, was already pulsating with its grave, harmonious and powerful vibration. Here would be the sanctuary of the island, the sacred heart, where, in silence and mystery, some chosen ones would come to commune with the living forces of the forest, and other things of which I must not speak. Who says sanctuary says Sacred, and who says Sacred says Mystery and secret...

They saw these hills covered with forest and immense trees, which seemed to double their height. Only the trees and the forest humus could hold water here; only the haughty forest could serve as a setting for the sweet mysteries. At the bottom of the vegetal cirque, an impressive cathedral of greenery with subdued light, a small hollow prairie would welcome the ceremonies. Small temples and houses would surround it, at the foot of the enormous trunks. There would live a few Eolines and Eolis in the service of the temples, there Lioureline and Boronnée would withdraw from public life when their role of builders would be completed.

A little further north, apart, another crater, completely closed and secret, would be reserved for those who would come there to abandon their bodies to leave to other worlds with even more brilliant Suns... For this the Eolis seek the colossal forest of deep darkness, fresh, silent and without flowers, but so lively in their unshakeable tranquillity, that the Spirit delights in the most subtle vibrations, as of a wonderful source of youth...

Ah, there were hidden germs of wonders in this desert of stones... Where the eye of flesh saw only dry pebbles, the eye of the soul sensed fresh freshness, damp intimacy, branches cutting the sky in stained glass, sweet secrets of the Spirit... The gaze of the soul already guessed a few seeds buried in the fine pink dust, waiting their hour...

All this would take two thousand years to take all its power. What are two thousand years, friends readers? Think that between the date of this narrative and our time, half of it already passed.

Two thousand years of love, joy, activity, gentle complicities, glances... We are not in a hurry.

And it takes all this time, to have big trees. On Earth, trees usually die after some centuries, the growth of the roots causing overlaps, wounds, where enter mushrooms in charge of digesting dead wood. The very old trees are hollow and, losing their solidity, die by collapsing. (At least in the wilderness, otherwise the woodcutter will pass long before.) In especially dry areas, sheltered from mould, trees live older. Not to mention the tree of Bodhgaya, shoot of the one under which the Buddha received enlightenment twenty-five centuries ago. We can quote the forests of Lebanon (Inestimable heritage destroyed by the guilty negligence of its guardians). Sure the famous redwoods, with their two thousand years. But we have found much better since: in Arizona, pines of lean aspect, which oldest branches were dated to eight thousand years! There is in fact no theoretical limit for the age of a tree: they do not die of old age like us. On Aeoliah, the situation is not essentially different, except that the mushrooms and trees exchange more precise chemical signals, ensuring that the work of the former will not be done to the detriment of the latter. Thousand-years-old trees are common, but hardly more than three thousands years in the humid regions, or ten thousands for some coniferous trees. On the other hand, the dry regions see phenomena, as far as the Eolis maintain them: certain temples are built in oasis, around successive shoots of the same tree perpetuating for millions of years. Such ancient roots can be an integral part of the geological layers which have formed over them. Highly sacred life, witnessing so much emotion, so much hope and attention...

There seems to be no limit to the height of trees. The aspiration of the sap, linked to the evaporation of the water, reaches the enormous value of minus eighty bars: two trucks pulling on each side of a leaf! This makes theoretically possible eight hundred metres trees, on Earth, or five hundred metres on Aeoliah. The tallest forests of the Amazon, however, hardly exceed one hundred metres. On Aeoliah, the height of the forests very much depends on the place; they can be as small as a few metres, to a hundred and fifty metres in the humid forests. This, with the small size of the Eolis, is equivalent to more than two kilometres for us: mountain-trees! Some conifers sometimes reach two or three hundred metres, or a little more, but it is rare. Needless to say, such beings are also highly revered, and bearing so many spirits of the places that they are almost regarded as persons.

 

Although the place where they were was not yet formally consecrated, our four friends performed the rituals at the bottom of the cup shaped valley, and meditated at length on the grand and solemn atmosphere of the place. They also made the tour, from top to top. They found several very precise locations where the birds had modified the soil on their own initiative. No doubt some buried seeds had called them. They also noticed, in small hollows, a few cracked earth, and even wet patches of the last rain: clay was beginning to form, from the rock dust which would gradually become able to retain water. No doubt it was there that some large and mysterious migratory birds had deposited the precious seeds...

From here they had an overview of the whole island, a both grandiose and beautiful sight... In the south, the basalt island, flat, covered with shrubs, patchwork of violet and green, surrounded by a golden line of corals... Farther under the sea, the ancient flows extended in turquoise veins, then blue, ultramarine, before joining the deep purple of the ocean. The two lakes were tender jewels in their caskets... The first village was invisible from here, because it was full south on the other side. By contrast, the second part of the island was surrounding itself with pink beaches, then yellow, green, and also turquoise, blue and indigo moving away towards the sea. To the north and finally to the second volcano, violet and brown rocks emerged from the water in two or three places, but the corals had not yet settled there, so the violet of the ocean retained its rights except in two or three points where the water showed a strange reddish colour: volcanic emanations no doubt attracted a very rich and particular plankton. Sorts of white seagulls circled, nesting on the reefs.

They decided to spend the night at the summit of the island. As expected, they found a shelter, not a tent, but a small building with pebble walls and a leaf roof, mid-slope of the central valley. Then they changed their minds: the starry sky was so beautiful that they preferred to climb to the top. It was enough to take shelter behind some rocks of the fresh wind of the night, and of course to wrap themselves in dew-proof covers. Oh, the sweet moments of tenderness! One begins by pushing some of the cold sand of the surface to find the one that is still warm of the sun, then one disposes the covers. When they sleep outside, they do not undress completely, to keep their warmth, but the travelling gowns open in front: then each can clasp with his tender half, hugging one another, skin to skin, breast against breast, with the soft caress of the hair, the perfume and the warmth of the other. There are small hollows in the ground, for the arms, in order to be able to sleep entwined without discomfort or ankylosis. When they do this, the very friend Eolis arrange themselves in a star, heads in the centre. As they were only two couples, they were head to head, so that their four faces, emerging from the blankets, beatifically gazed at the stars, all hairs mixed together. They fell asleep, the heart full of the wonderful or strange vibrations which descend from these distant suns...

As each star has its vibration, often harsh or strange when its planets are not inhabited. The ones which give warmth and light to life have stronger and more varied vibrations, sometimes incomprehensible for us, sometimes familiar. The Eolis never gave fixed names to constellations, as they change along millenniums, while each star travels on its own orbit around the galaxy. So the drawing changes completely, even in a Eoli lifetime. But the Eolis name the stars, according to their vibration in most cases. Some day, somebody remarks that such minute star has grown, and he gives a name to it. Then the star treads its path in the sky of Aeoliah, and it can become luminous if ever it passes close from Aeoliah. Then everybody can feel its vibration, speak of it, discover its History. Then, as it recedes again in the obscure depths of the cosmos, the star becomes again minuscule, and it disappears. Here is what the long life of the Eolis allow them to see! When a star disappears, it remains only a memory of it. Millions of names are thus noted in the depths of Irizdar, on stone slabs, so that they fossilise and remain much longer than paper. Maybe when erosion will unveil the names again, the star will be visible again too, having performed an orbit around the galaxy...

In the Aeolian sky are (now) two «grey holes», which inhabitants were still not able to get rid off evil and live in harmony. They are named like this, as they look like a tear in the framework of the Harmony of the universe, just as black holes are holes in space-time. The planets hampered by evil are surrounded by an astral shield, to avoid their unhealthy vibrations to disturb the harmonious worlds. The one of Earth is situated in the Van Allen belts, between one thousand and six thousands kilometres of altitude. Beyond is normal space: the astronauts which went further while going to the moon often had spiritual experiences. (But they did not necessarily followed this path, each of them reacting to this one-time experience according to his personality.) Our solar system also has a second shielding, beyond Pluto. Thanks to such protections, the inhabitants of the worlds of Harmony do not feel the noisome vibrations of the grey holes among the marvels of the starry sky, unless they specially think at them. There are two in the Aeolian sky, one with humans similar to us but with a relatively small degree of the disease, and another one about which it is better to say nothing, except that the Soul gardeners who work for them still have some results.

Ordinary Eolis never think to the grey holes; and if our four friends that night were allowing their lips to shiver from this contemplation, it is because all four are concerned with the Soul First Aid work. And if they were thinking tonight to the grey holes, it is because the first of the two was about, in its majestic cosmic orb around the galaxy, pass just near Aeoliah. Such a stellar conjunction would show, from each of the two planets, the sun of the other shine much more than our Venus, and the inhabitants of the two planets would be united in the same marvellous cosmic spectacle. In more, as the inhabitants of the grey holes were not censoring the Spirit as on Earth, some information could be passed to them. So that they would know that this invited sun illuminating their nights was also giving light to an ineffable paradise inhabited by gentle and lovely beings who think at them… What a marvellous occasion, for these human beings, to think to the Aeolian marvel, and, perhaps, to liberate themselves all together from evil! The conjunction was to take place into seventeen thousand years, for a duration of ten to fifteen centuries, so it was time to get ready. Especially Liouna was feeling personally concerned; perhaps his would be the business of her life. She had already attended some preliminary meetings, with her friends of Irizdar and other centres like the gigantic Oronar red monastery, beyond the Evening Mountain, and the pastel blue school of Mydaor.

 

They spent a second day at the top of the mountain, meditating or planning together the future landscape. They stayed a second night, but this time thinking only of the beautiful vibrations. There were much more than bad ones...

The third day they had no more water to drink, and it became urgent to wash. As they were about to come down, they discovered the tree. Two leaves of ornoulier, rising from one of the clay puddles, between footsteps they had left the day before, without noticing anything. Algénio, who spotted them first, uttered a cry, and the others came running. Oh, how happy they were! All four, knees in the clay, bowed to the humble plant, to the tree of one day, caressed his two still crumpled leaves. Lioureline sang, and standing up: «He is right where he needs to.» Then, pointing to a place among the stones: «The little temple of the agrarian poetry will be right here.»

They were happy! It is that, friend reader, the ornoulier, or gold-chestnut, is a large and majestic tree, living very old, and growing only in sacred forests. To see him pointing his nose in first was a much encouraging omen, and Lioureline, jumping and dancing like a child, could not be happier! Joy which Algenio and Liouna shared readilly, while Boronnée, seated on a rock just above, contemplated them with his full inner smile...

It is with a light heart that they descended, gliding, much faster than when climbing. Ah, friend readers, do you know how exhilarating it is to let yourself slip into the clean air, counting only on what nature has provided you!

Laughing and singing, they reached the second lake, directly in the water, without even taking the trouble to undress, for in any case they were red with dust. After some joyful frolics, they climbed up one of the already warm rocks, spread their robes and stretched out to dry. They rinsed, dried and carefully stored the water gourds for other visitors. Boronnée spent a long time combing again Lioureline's immense hair, and she sighed with ease...

 

They went to the lagoon, towards the west. On the banks were living the famous palm-trees, which they took so much trouble to save from the preceding eruption. These trees were still a little lonely, surrounded only by grass, with reeds at the edge of the water. But they were already giving a crop, which a small workshop was able to prepare: copra in blocks, half cut shells to make bowls, and the fibre which for the time being was stored in a cave: they would make excellent houses.

Reeds, too, could provide building blocks. Imagine a reed truss pagoda painted in blue...

This place was still a little forsaken, because of the eruptions to come. But it was important, both as a future garden and for its own beauty. For now the great reeds were just bordering the tongue of sand which separated the lagoon from the sea, forming a labyrinth there. The inner shore, more flat and more sinuous, would be a beach punctuated with tufts of gorse and other flowering plants. The tiny caps and islets would receive slender pagodas, responding to the horizontal lines of the landscape. Going inland, we would fist find gardens, then the forests of coconut and banana trees (blue) and finally the great sacred forest, which would also occupy the pass. The village would stretch between the edge of the forest and the gardens, where a large meeting place was planned. As for the vibration, it was already warm and joyful, dynamic and active, under the benevolent eye of the Blue Marvel, up the mountain. It would doubtless be one of the largest villages on the island, and several volunteers were already burning with impatience to be able to work there, training to intertwine bamboo blades.

Finally, our friends took the road to the first village, following the sea, this time on the west side of the island. O marvellous coast of violet rocks with creeks, perfumed with resin! The underwater life had already flourished its wonders, in the transparent water with a just slightly undulating surface. The dominant colour was turquoise, due to yellow corals of finely indented shape, which carpeted the rock like a sock: they not yet had time to form reefs.

Such a clear water, blue as the sky, was a provocation: our friends dipped in it voluptuously. Each creek was more beautiful than the previous one, under the dwarf trees and the masses of flowers which surmounted the purplish rocks.

 

In the evening they found themselves not very far from the first village, but more to the west. There was a small pagoda where one could sleep, on a promontory with view on several creeks, fairy rocks and some large trees dominating the island.

This marvel of elegance and finesse had been assembled in split bamboo blades, like cane or rattan, with curves, pillars, acroteres and friezes in braces. It was covered with blue mortar, which, mixed with pines resin, was making a good stucco well resistant to rain. It had been given a storey, with no other use than to have windows. But these windows had shutters, which the Eolis never do without intent. Imagine with more details: Each round window was separated from its neighbour by a space equal to its diameter, and carried two half-circle flaps, light yellow inside, blue outside. Open, they joined from one window to another in as many complete circles, yellow; closed, you could see nothing but blue. Even at night it was easily noticed. This poetic semaphore had a specific purpose: to indicate whether the pagoda was occupied or not. In order not to disturb the possible occupants... who left on an astral journey. For this was the use of this marvellous little monument.

It was time to sleep anyway, so they would spend the night there. Boronnée put on the blue shutters. In the small room on the ground floor, with its smooth sky blue dome ceiling, adorned with gradient swirls, they stretched out on the covers in a star with four branches, leaving a small space in the middle, where they placed a light-flower-light.

They slept or dreamed until the end of the flower light, and then, in the propitious darkness, began to leave their bodies. Algenio was scarcely accustomed to the astral. Hardly recovering from a delicate exit, he contemplated the room of the pagoda. The vision in astral was for him something confusing in some ways. How many windows were there? They were inverted, their proportions changed, and yet it was indeed the room of the pagoda which he saw, bathed in a blue light. He saw only Liouna, who smiled softly at him, surrounded with a deep luminous cobalt blue, as a stained glass. Boronnée and Lioureline seemed for him simple haloes of light, royal blue and sky blue. Yet he felt their presence, their smile, their gaze: no doubt it was them. Lioureline had not uttered a word, and yet he knew exactly what she was asking him to do: to visualize herself raising slowly, which he did. Immediately, he felt himself rise, with a very concrete and delightful sensation at the same time, of lightness and weightlessness. He found himself in the room with shutters, on the first floor, a strange place for which there were no stairs. It was an occultum, which windows were closed by a blue velum. It contained an egregore with very powerful vibrations, to help the departure and the journey. The floor was domed, like the dome below, and the ceiling lowered. A mysterious Eoli had, on his own initiative and without uttering a word, arranged in the centre a strange spiral sculpture, as one of those marvellous helical shells bristling with long radiant stems. It was prolonged on the roof of the pagoda with a bulb surmounted by a long shaft, embellished with multiple antennae and serrations. He had painted the whole, including the floor and walls, of this beautiful ceruleum blue, enhanced by darker gradations or purple spirals. Then the mysterious Eoli left without any explanation. It was concluded that this should be in the plan.

When they began to rise above the island, it appeared to them as a splendour... Imagine an ultramarine sky scintillating with stars like a river of diamonds, shivering with coloured phosphorescence; imagine an ocean of purple velvet, slightly luminous; imagine, floating on it, a splendid stained glass of blues and mauves, shining like a sun, but without dazzling... some darker places were still visible in the second part of the island, not yet very lively, but points of lights were scintillating around…

«Here is all our meditative work», thought Lioureline for Algenio, who understood without hearing any word. He was overwhelmed by the power and the variety of his feelings in the astral world, vibrations of the places, of each living being, and the more diverse emotions that he felt all together in the same time, yet without they mix, the intense presence of his companions and friends, more some unknown ones, and especially of his loving Liouna, small star which was now emanating for him an unreal and deeply moving pink... It was the first time he so strongly felt the strength of her love.

Algenio was somewhat slow to recover: we can understand him.

When at last he found himself all right again, he recovered a more usual sense of sight: perfumed trees, strange rocks, clear water, although all this was throbbing with stealth and suave luminescence. His companions and himself recovered some body appearance. In the astral world Lioureline was wearing still longer hairs, immaterial, curved in languorous loops, sensitive to the least contact... Not astonishing she loves so much to be combed!

Lioureline was singing. She emitted no sound, but a succession of different vibrations, into a kind of melody. Algenio noticed that she was lowering her vibration. (This does not mean at all that it was going evil, as some readers might believe. Are the low notes «bad» and the high notes «good»? Of course not.)

The song of Lioureline, little by little, caused all the living lights to disappear from their sight, as she invoked the deep, solemn vibrations of the rocks, of the Earth. Then they went down... to touch the ground, then to penetrate it. Algenio was so fascinated that he forgot to find the rocks compact, and he sank with a strange delight into a kind of transparent jelly, like a glass block where fissures and fractures ran. He was clearly seeing the separations between the successive layers of basalt, the innumerable fissures and vacuoles... with the dull, deep, moving, harsh and pathetic vibration of the rocks of fire.

Their field of vision widened, and they saw their island from the inside, as a whole, as if it was transparent, from all sides at once, including behind them... Imagine a group of three huge cones, only the top of the first two emerging from the ocean... And, inside, as if everything was made of glass, the innumerable layers of lava, and especially the entire arborescence of successive volcanic chimneys, complex like strange trees...

All these tubes were starting from three points of the ocean floor, two kilometres lower, where two faults converged in one. At this spot already the heat made the rocks glow, not only in the chimneys themselves, but also in a kind of sheath around them.

They continued their descent, and the ocean floor became transparent in its turn, formed of an incredible number of vertical veins and faults, then a few kilometres below, of an homogeneous and compact rock, red hot, crossed only by some welded tectonic faults. The lava rising from the depths had tried different paths along the great fault, but only these three passages had succeeded. Now incandescent, these chimneys plunged ever deeper, vertiginous pits that did not end...

xxx Our friends finally came to the roots of the volcanoes, pathetic lairs of fire and magma, molten gold vibrating with a deep and indescribable pulsation... It was a system of several rooms where, in a subtle alchemy, the rocks of the ocean were decanted and re-formed, from which other mountains, other islands, and other delicate paradises would arise some day. Seeing only fire, our friends changed their perception: bitter flint, pungent silica, as the different rocks appeared to them... They went even lower down, where the pressure crushed rocks no longer melt, despite the dazzling white they irradiate...

Even in this place they felt living presences, powerful and sovereign, but so slow that they did not seemed to notice them.

The perception of the tensions of the rocks was overwhelming: everywhere, without exception, they are always ready to burst. Colossal efforts, pathetic immobile struggle, indescribable vibration of power and slowness...

Boronnée assessed the state of things, as an expert. He showed them: here the rocks are slowly freezing. There on the contrary, they melt. The magma chamber had begun with the opening of the fault a long time ago. It produced the three volcanoes. It gradually ascended toward the surface, melting the oceanic crust of its ceiling and depositing on the floor the most refractory minerals, the light excess liquid flowing towards the surface. But its days were numbered: in less than a hundred thousand years it would no longer have enough heat to rise, and it would definitely freeze in a million years.

But another upheaval would take place before: the fault was now working on a second branch. It could fracture the underwater foundations of the island, towards the northeast, not without a tremendous thrill of Aeoliah, foreseeable in two or three centuries: they did well not to build anything solid! Near the future epicentre, the crushed rocks stretched to the limit of their resistance, were vibrating like a dull rumbling, a motionless trepidation...

The lavas were preparing for a new journey, a sort of tongue of fire near the ocean floor. They would soon form a second system of volcanoes, abandoning the first three chimneys. The island would then be stable in its entirety, the new volcanoes not being able to leave the ocean before one hundred thousand years, when they would be about to end. That would make another island, or those sugar loaves of thick lava, which swarm in the Aeolian oceans ...

Boronnée showed the third chimney, just above the ocean floor. A streak of fire was coming up here: lava was rising, without difficulty at the moment, for the sheath of red rock had little resistance, while guiding the passage. In a few months, it would be hot weather again to the north of the island... And it would be such as long as the fault would not have played.

When they found back their bodies of flesh, they were saturated with pathetic and colossal vibrations, and they had to sing from their pure voices to find again their familiar universe and its sweet enchanting scintillating night stars.

Algenio went out to breathe the fresh air of the night, to feel the grass, to rub against the bark, against the gentle quivering life, in the same time so close and so distant of this enormous universe of the entrails of their planet. For a first astral outing, this was a big one! To the east and to the west, small portions of the ring were mingled in the ocean. It appears like this in the tropics, even in the middle of the night: the shadow of the planet does not completely hide it, and the sky is not really black, but a fascinating ultramarine, all piqued with palpitating stars. In the distance sang a durlu, a night bird with mysterious airy melodies...

Algénio pulled out the yellow shutters from the outside. Then he went back to sleep; Liouna attracted him into her arms, and he felt his perfume, and the soft warmth of her skin against his.