And What of the Beginning?

In the graded drive. The pulpit lies. The open door. The grave pit. The arbor house. The empty swing set. The kids at play in the yard. The crops yield. The fertile field. The faraway war in a faraway land

–comes home.

The murder in the yard, the bloody feet, the skies are full of cries and smoke. Hand on neck, sister against sister, brother against brother, they assault one another in fear and ferocity, to right wrongs of the past on all sides.

The sun sets on the prosperity of humanity.

And we learn, and we put away the things that are killing us, we decide to not kill one another. We put down weapons and pick each other up. We apologize and brush off the blood debts of old. We replace what was stolen, repair the broken, set aright that which was upended. We align one with another, accept our unity, set ourselves to doing right, bless one another and lift our hands. We exalt the weak and helpless. We humble the powerful.

–Into this light, the shadow speaks, and appears among us.

The serpents call. The naked showing of the dark executives and kings. The agents of death are flushed from the forests, from our homes and our businesses, from our animals and our artifacts. We see them for what they are, and they plead with us to stay, but we do not listen. We usher them into the vessel that sails the black seas, and send them off into the abyss of space.

Then the stars above begin to fall, and the earth itself is rent apart, and the fires of stone bubble up upon us.¬†We see the trees turn against us, and the beasts leap upon our friends. The birds pluck out our eyes and carry our children away. The giants of the sea erupt onto shore and consume us–wandering in a daze. The air becomes a poisonous orange mist, and the sky unfurls the penetrating gaze of what had always been staring us down.

Exposed, diseased, afraid, scrutinized, we melt like snowflakes on a glowing coal.

And we weep and weep, and cry to ourselves alone, having no one to console us. And we wail to we know not whom, wishing for our sisters and brothers to hold us. Our bodies are crushed into paste, and burned, and scattered, and we float upon the winds which singed us, we mix with the waters that plagued us, we hide in the land that purged us.

We are the wind in the wind called wind;

We are the waves in the waves called waves;

We are the dust in the dust called dust;

We move now the mountains, for we are the mountains;

We move now the seas, for we are the sea;

We move now the sky, for we are the sky.

All that we are and have ever been we know as we.

The fire upon the hearth in the shelter of the cave is we, and every part between.

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