Macrocosm By Trish Reynolds She came to me in a swirl of white, silver and pale gossamer spinning about Her brightly, stark against the blackness of chaos; a Goddess. I took Her. Our passion created galaxies, spreading matter, light and dark, to fill the Cimmerian void with existence, universe. Then, She was gone. I slept long, awakening to behold the seed of our ardor pulsing blue and white with light and shadow; a Daughter. Upon Her crystalline surface I smiled. Others of my seed have gained life, but none so dear or filled with beauty. I called Her for Her Mother, Gaia. Eons pass, and my Child nourishes Her own fledgling attempts at life, the children of my Child, mortal beings whose existences span no more than an instant. They watch the signs We have written for them to see, and learn and grow. She will love them all, mourn each its passing, gaining wisdom with change until Her own seed spreads throughout the worlds, bringing life where there is nothing.
1993, Trish Reynolds
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