wide arched steps switchbacks ran before him and up inside a brilliant white cone

to the side he couldnt see where he assumed the steps later descended a pale ochre light marbled the cones face up into its apex 

a misty bluelight an underwater tropical light lighted the broad ascending steps  they were organic on shallow risers and hinted to be more a ramp than a staircase  though no matter they aroused his curiosity and begged him forward to walk up and up

as he ascended and to his mild surprise at the inside of the steps of the rising switchbacks were prehistoric relics which rung by rung gave way to more modern artefacts  the higher he rose off the stone and brick cobbled floorwhich he didnt bother to look down upon he recognised he was moving physically through the worlds prehistory and history and its cultures and as he gained altitude they became more and more contemporary their creation more precise

the cone its steps suggested a Guggenheim-sensibilitya towering sensibility to his exploration and ascension  and even before he made its top the mottled ochre lighting now dominating his way the displayed pieces confused him  he couldnt determine if they were assembled  scarce seams  or if they were organic he couldnt distinguish if they were functional or rather elaborate ornaments

those that preceded them had function whether they were used in ritual or commonplace or of common knowledge despite their acculturation

                     and on these many uppermost steps their artefacts defied alignment or possibly origin from their predecessors   almost as if he had stepped off his planet onto an alien planetary surface

when he began his descent into what had been the unseen side  at its top the edges of these steps were crumbling  whether of old age or poor construction or inferior materials he couldnt tell  but the artefacts at his back he had just stepped away  their cohorts on this side were degenerate  

every step languished and demurred they were steeper and irregular and became more unsubstantial

there were occasions he had to leap down onto a next platform  but before he leapt he  discerned that he could retreat if he wanted 

he wasnt blind to the possibility that despite his determination his descent might irrevocably become one way  incited by his awareness that when he jumped down the platform that received him shook under his weight  and impact  and often clods broke off and fell

on those lonely suspended islands he tread to their ravaged edges and glimpsed down

and beneath him was a rotating maw  that cast the ochre light  that seethed voluptuously  rapturously

he might have conceded it was a caldera 

                               but there was no violence of magma of belching heat and gasesin fact he wasnt sure it possessed any depth  the fallen clods were scattered on its roiling face  he wasnt sure it wasnt a kind of lookingglass a caramel singular dimension  a profane pane of glass

where he stopped was where the relics stopped  if a relic could be a barely worked stone a negligibly altered piece of bone or shard of wood

this was an ugly prehistory

this side was desperate

looking up the switchbackthe humpback he saw the distant apex  heavenly in a cool blue colour that eroded the grim rust he saw above him before he began up the steps

these descending steps swayed  and as they swayed they piqued himreminded him of a nursery rhyme he hadnt considered or thought of in a very long time

rock-a-by baby

on the tree top

when the wind blows

the cradle will rock

when the bough breaks

the cradle will fall

and down will fall baby

cradle and all

 

                                                                                                                    wha?    Mankindes cradle?                           

1523,  Twosday,  13  6. 17

1846,  Thursday,  15 6. 17

The Doors  Been Down So Long  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mgw5j9h8528