When the sphinx woke once more, she lay in a darkening cell. Stone by stone, mortar by mortar, her eyes raised the walls to the blackened timbers of the ceiling far above. A short and narrow window with not shutter, nor bar, made the light just a memory around the cell, its dark corners all alike.
She came to the opening by which the only light might encounter.
If I were but a slim woman creature, mayhap I could crawl through this to my freedom and rejoice in the world. But as I am a Sphinx of great stature this is denied to me. I shall look out upon the world that is available.
There, shown through the window space, she saw an Obelisk of dark stone. Cut with soft edges and placed in such a way that the light, then coming down from the unseen sun, played across its surface to show the carved scenes that were depicted there. At the distance which the Sphinx was allowed, the figures and beasts therein were hard to discern. The narratives that may have been intended, became confused. Figures, falling from one narrative line into the next, seemed to march across the surface. Great armies becoming love stories and heroic deeds coming in face with scenes of family and other things not understood. Here, a mortal combat now slipped into a great ship upon the open sea. There, a queen on a throne, set down in a herd of lowing cattle.
Also, to be seen by the stone, which covered the greater portion of the view, was some ground, heavily trod and devoid of growing things. And here was a box, not special in any way, neither shiny nor carved nor painted nor adorned with flags, without handles or metal reinforcement, which stood aside at a small angle to the great carved stone.
From this box came the sound of a musical instrument, perhaps a lute or other stringed instrument, out of tune, being picked and hit. Sounding for all the world as if someone who had no knowledge of how to use this instrument had been locked into the box and had started to play with it from sheer boredom or anger.
What then shall I accomplish from this vision, a series of confused narratives and a broken musical box, thought the Sphinx, I shall fashion a story of my own from this material, with a back drop of sound, that I may pull some coherence from a hat to satisfy my curiosity? Perhaps I can make a little understanding of it all.
The Guardians of the Cave 