Before the time that men came...

       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...