**IT LOOKS LIKE REVELATION
**By Gwenzo**
.
.
...
.
.
.
Something about Nepal
does not feel ordinary.
I watch mountains break.
Water become earth.
Earth become water.
Mud swallowing roads,
homes,
everything humans thought
was permanent.
And somewhere inside me
an ancient thought rises:
I have seen this before.
Not me.
Us.
The ancestral us.
Because there is a theory
people whisper about:
mud floods.
That some places beneath our feet
may carry evidence
of catastrophes greater
than the history we were given.
Buried floors.
Windows beneath street level.
Cities built upon cities.
Stories of worlds
swallowed by water and earth.
The theory is disputed.
But Nepal makes me wonder.
Because now
we can actually watch
a landscape transform.
Road becomes river.
Building becomes rubble.
Civilization becomes sediment.
And I imagine my ancestors
standing somewhere centuries ago,
hearing something thunder
in the distance.
No satellites.
No warnings.
No phones.
No scientist explaining
what happened upstream.
Only
water.
Stone.
Mud.
Running.
Then silence.
Imagine returning
and finding your world buried.
Imagine digging downward
for your doorway.
Imagine children asking:
What is underneath us?
And generation after generation,
memory becomes story.
Story becomes legend.
Legend becomes myth.
Until eventually,
people laugh at the story.
Then another mountain breaks.
And suddenly I wonder:
What if this is how
the old stories began?
What if some ancestors
really witnessed mud and water
bury parts of their world?
What if some ancient flood stories
are memories
carried through generations
after the evidence disappeared
beneath their feet?
I cannot prove that.
But I cannot stop asking.
Because Nepal looks like
something ancient
walking into the present.
And the strangest part?
The world keeps scrolling.
Politics.
Celebrity.
Money.
War.
Entertainment.
Swipe.
As though Earth
did not just remind us
how thin civilization is.
Maybe this is not
an extinction event.
Maybe it is not prophecy.
But something about it
feels like
REVELATION.
Not necessarily
the end of the world.
Revelation means
an unveiling.
Something hidden
becoming visible.
And perhaps that is
the question Nepal leaves us:
If something like this
surprised our ancestors,
what would remain?
A buried wall?
A doorway underground?
A layer of mud?
A story about a great flood?
A legend?
A scripture?
A warning?
And thousands of years later,
would we stand
above their buried world
and call their testimony
myth?
.
.
...
.
..
.
..
.
.
.
..
.