STAR GODDESS
She was free falling through space. She sensed that she was at the beginning of her journey. She was at that moment when heat and light were coming together but had not yet met. The void still existed and yet its demise was eminent. She could see it all: the beginnings and the middles and the myriad endings of lives lived and lives longed for. She was poised, as a diver poises mid-air right before form and substance impact upon one and other.
She was the youthful huntress of a thousand dreams and wishes. The earth was hers as she ran silently through the lush temperate forests of her spirit. She played among the named and unnamed of creation. She was their protector and their light. Everywhere that she went she made her life known, her passing resounded from field to sky. No one knew of her existence, yet everywhere was her stamp of identity. She was the warrior maid, the explorer, knower and doer of infinite nights. She walked dreams and visions, but none could touch her or come upon her living being. She brought solace but she was not a comforter. She would listen to the tales told for and about her, but she let them slip through her wakefulness like water over rock. She would respond when her name was invoked but so quietly it felt like the breath of a whisper. She was a bit of silver against the glint of gold, and she was the soul of earth embodied within it.
She blossomed forth into her own fulfillment. She wrapped her arms around her young and brought forth more. She stood full bosomed and nurturing, the swing of her hips likened to the waves lapping along an ocean shore. She nested her young and attended to their needs lovingly and wholly as this was all she had ever done and ever would be. She brought forth joy from pain and knowledge from doubt. She understood the rhythms of those that surrounded her and imparted the unguent that would remove the sting from the wound of her brood. She would laugh and tell a good story, shedding light on obscure bits of lore and fashioning a garden from seeds others cast aside. She found joy in the dance and could be seen in the fields ripe for harvest twirling weaving her special magick, beckoning others to join her.
She became ancient, but never grew old, you could tell by looking into her eyes. She would begin slowly wrapping herself in a cloak as black as space itself as she walked the path between the dimensions defined by time. She was all knowing and all seeing still but more seasoned and cautious. She held within the life of her eyes all the wisdom of the ages that she had witnessed and would witness before and after she had begun. She would be feared as she took stock of all that was hers to survey. She would do what she had to, not out of malice but out of the need that creation itself called forth. For every action there is an equal and relevant reaction and it was her cause that urged her to look upon all that was done and would be done.
She was the Seer, the Knower, and the Doer. By many a name had she been known and in many ages had she brought forth and invoked the Great Cycle. In many more ages would she be misunderstood and then forgotten. As the cycle continued and continues she would be rediscovered and reinterpreted but she would always remain herself hovering in that moment before creation: Virgin, Nymph, Crone. The Spinner and Weaver of stories, the Mother that is left at the beginning of the journey and She who we return to when weary of our task. She stands at the center of creation itself reflecting the greater light of life, but she is not diminished by it because she is the light itself.
©Edna Jan Jacobs July 1, 2011
