Before the
time that men came, we looked into the blue blue sea, and it was calm.
Even when
the winds blue (blew) fierce, stirring sand & passion, the aqua seas
remained calm because we asked that it be so, and the seas, our friend, were
willing.
We did not
always ask of course.
When it did
not matter to us, when no ship would be lost, no family or kin of land or sea
in jeopardy, we made no request for calm and the sea tore at itself with huge
delight, whipping its own passions into a frenzy of waves & whirlpools,
turbulent magnificence.
And we
often watched, standing wayyyy back, well clear, in wonder & awe.
For our
friend was mighty.
She
provided food & fun & friendship, but she also was the same divine
power of us, omnipotent, able to do anything she willed, create or destroy, at
any time, for any reason.
However,
like us, she was whole-y good.
Holy.
Whole.
And thus
her passionate power rose only in towering columns of joy, spraying mist for
miles as her thundering waves crashed against rocks, trees, land, and against
itself, but she never thundered for harm.
Only joy.
Only as
& in an expression of playful wildness.
Never to
decimate or destroy.
For the sea
was womyn.
Womyn
energy. Womyn power.
Always
expressed as Love with a capital L, love which while mighty & fierce is
also whole-y nurturing & rich with tenderness, care, concern, interest in
the wellbeing of all.
There was
no welfare in those times, the time before men.
Only
well-being, enjoyed by all.
It was
impossible then to even conceive of a world where some would have & others
would not.
Where such
non-goodness would be allowed. Would be desired, manufactured, locked into
reality of the bleakest kind, by some.
By men.
The
anomaly.
The
mutation that would seemingly rise. For a time. Unbidden. Unwelcome. Un.
And now
they are falling.
Once more
to return to the dust of what they were, before they learned to spin the
illusion of Life without really knowing or respecting what it means to Live.
They
pretended to own the throne of Life with a capital L, but really only barely
knew how to exist.
Coming from
death, they were much more comfortable wielding destruction than creation.
Even things
they built were always at the expense of life, above & below.
Their ideas
of grandeur & might meant paving over anything truly alive, meant entombing
towards the sky boxes to be in that towered so high fake oxygen needed to be
pumped through the walls for beings to survive there...barely.
From death
they came & to death they shall return.
This is the
way of things.
The way it
all works.
Fate.
No one can
out run or cement over fate for long. Life is an indubitable indomitable force.
The Force. The Life behind Life, the power that passions all else.
Like the
sea.
It cannot
be contained. Nor enslaved. Nor tamed. Nor poisoned into submission.
Life is the
force behind all that is & ever was & ever will be.
It is pure,
and remains so.
And it is
womyn.
Wombyn.
The true
essence behind beneath & throughout all things.
All things
that continue anyhow.
TO BE CONTINUED...
