Status: I've finished it! Finally!
Eve and the Earth
Epilogue: Begin-End.
Epilogue
Present
There is light and darkness in the world, both of which we know from our first moment of sight. Mine was later than most, for I was lost in time and in birth and memory; perhaps I appeared as I was; I do not know. Many lives, many insights show us something we only knew dreaming, before the world was real: they are neither of them bad or good, light and darkness. They merely are.
A time of both has come to the world; a time of both shall pass again. I see now, in the lives that continue, a story beginning and a story ending, and think of many lives and many deaths, and of my sister-cousin Eve and the ways that light and darkness can eventually become each other. They don’t always seem so different.
A far tale surfaces, one of a man who knew of death, one of a man who did not learn later of her death. And yet, perhaps the light and darkness reflected in him too, in the tale he told…son of the dreamer-woman, the prescient one, he had killed to not be killed for who he was, had loved so he could forget and in doing so became the legend, the fate he tried to avoid. And yet the dreams, the legends, the lies and truth surface through him traitorously, unexpectedly, and weave a tale, one of many things, of truth and fiction and thought and dreams and images. One of an apple and a snake, and of a woman, a woman whose life was so like my own. Eve, she was called, but again the truth surfaced, as sometimes it will, as always it does: her name, her life, her blood, was not her cage but her wings, for she marked the dawn in the change of my life. And in the dawn that now surfaces over the trees and past where the moon, my mother, watches wonderingly, I see many images, of dreams and of legends, of thought and truth and lies, and I reflect that perhaps the light and darkness form a pattern, one that sometimes, in the brightest or darkest of times, the dawn shows through.
Present
There is light and darkness in the world, both of which we know from our first moment of sight. Mine was later than most, for I was lost in time and in birth and memory; perhaps I appeared as I was; I do not know. Many lives, many insights show us something we only knew dreaming, before the world was real: they are neither of them bad or good, light and darkness. They merely are.
A time of both has come to the world; a time of both shall pass again. I see now, in the lives that continue, a story beginning and a story ending, and think of many lives and many deaths, and of my sister-cousin Eve and the ways that light and darkness can eventually become each other. They don’t always seem so different.
A far tale surfaces, one of a man who knew of death, one of a man who did not learn later of her death. And yet, perhaps the light and darkness reflected in him too, in the tale he told…son of the dreamer-woman, the prescient one, he had killed to not be killed for who he was, had loved so he could forget and in doing so became the legend, the fate he tried to avoid. And yet the dreams, the legends, the lies and truth surface through him traitorously, unexpectedly, and weave a tale, one of many things, of truth and fiction and thought and dreams and images. One of an apple and a snake, and of a woman, a woman whose life was so like my own. Eve, she was called, but again the truth surfaced, as sometimes it will, as always it does: her name, her life, her blood, was not her cage but her wings, for she marked the dawn in the change of my life. And in the dawn that now surfaces over the trees and past where the moon, my mother, watches wonderingly, I see many images, of dreams and of legends, of thought and truth and lies, and I reflect that perhaps the light and darkness form a pattern, one that sometimes, in the brightest or darkest of times, the dawn shows through.