Reveries of Heresy

Theia, Earth’s first love, you set her into eternal motion, and birthed our blessed moon. Four billion years ago, you coalesced with Earth in a glancing blow, you heralded the first note by pulling the gravitational bow, kicking up the raw dust in this waltz of orbital scars. Forgotten goddess, invisible knot in the galaxy’s skein; all life traces its pulse back to you, surging to the rhythm of your pull, your tides, your seasons, hidden muse. Theia, Earth’s first love, rest deep beneath the ocean bed while we strive and toil overhead. Your work is complete; Selene is your legacy— she will withstand long after sapiens wither into antiquity. Theia, Earth’s true love, you balanced her axis, and taught her to endure. Sleep now beneath the ocean bed, as Lethe slowly wanes away: each breath, each ash, the core.

Could one have a memory  of a life never lived?  Mist clinging to my pores, dew trickling down my cheek, my body sinks deep into the moss beneath. Willows sway gently above the swamp, light seeping slyly through foliage, the gleam of a salamander’s skin. Fairy inkcaps sprout unbidden from decaying logs, a hidden home for earwigs and slugs raising their family in the dark. Enshrouded and sodden as my soul, these creatures, knowing, soothe  more deeply  than humans hands ever could. If so, how could they be but a memory of a life never lived…