Nature paused one distant, unformed day, considering what to do next. She gazed longingly towards the sky – towards the planets in their astrological households, the constellations and their starry fantasy – but they were beyond her creativity, far from her loving eye.
She stood still against her woods and forests, leaning against their darkness, breathing in the gentle sap and chlorophyll. The bark scraped against her arms, releasing scents that were green and pungeant – scents that reached into the earth…her earth.
Her oceans curled in frothy currents at her feet, pulling and playing like impatient tides. Waterfalls fell from her elbows, white and serene. Rivers embraced her body in cooling wrinkles and textures. Along her shoulders and held in her hands were her flowers, whose lush and varied fragrance mesmerized the chaste air. A map for the living world, she held her dreams of creation in her hands: pretty molecules that twisted and coiled around her fingers.
But now she was weary. She sighed – and the treetops stirred; her tired whispers provoking tiny tempests around the branches. She looked over her lands, pure and motionless..and unoccupied. And she wondered what she should do next.