Forever Becoming

In the beginning

Dark eyes, black like coal contrast a slim, ivory face. The black of her hair seemed to consume nearby light. Her gossamer robes flowed and floated in and around her as if a part of her, drawing the night near, to become of her. Her appearance was at once startling and amazing. An observer couldn’t tell whether she were an angel sent by God or a demon sent by Satan. 

She had been called both.

The fire’s dancing fingers played off the deep ebony of her eyes as she stood before the gathering of forty-odd people, stark white arms raised to a cresting moon. 

“Madam Dandelion,” a voice called. “Tell the one of the beginning!” 

A request, never a demand.

Her lips, red like blood dripped onto the first snow of winter, hinted a smile. “I shall. I shall tell the story of the beginning of all things and the times to come.” She nodded to approvals as August’s heat lightning danced on the distant horizon behind her. “It seems the gods also approve of this telling tonight!” 

Her gathered friends, her co-workers, her family laughed.

“If it pleases my family and the gods, then this is my telling:”


In a time, which was not a time, and in a place not a place, lived a youthful woman. She was a child yet a woman and then not a woman. If we could see her, we’d cry at her beauty and the children would giggle with delight. She sat among the tall pines, danced in the field of flowers and cooled herself in the waters of the lake. Her being was full, yet she felt deep in her heart something was missing.

In this place, not a place, in a time not a time, only day existed, with the bright sun always laughing. This child looked beyond her mountain, saw darkness and didn’t understand what darkness was. She didn’t like the darkness. She raised her hands to the sky and sang a song with no words. The song, full of wonder. In this song and of herself, she pushed back the darkness, creating a world much like hers, but of the darkness, too.

She created a place, which is a place, in a time that is a time. By this act, the universe as we see it came to be, because of her and of her. She watched with wonder and excitement this place of her creation. Watch is all she could do. She was not of this place of her creation.

She is of the place, not a place, in a time that is not a time. Yet, in this place of ours, she saw creatures not unlike herself and not like herself at all. Over the vast time she created, she watched these creatures, generation after generation, stand upright and look toward the stars and beyond. As their minds reached upward, their souls reached inward, both mind and soul growing from the earth that birthed them to be more and more like her.

A time came when she feared these creatures, standing upright and reaching so high. She thought to withdraw her light, allowing all things to return to as they were. She couldn’t because she loved her creation, the place a place in a time a time.

Her love is not like the love we know. Her love is unwashed with matters of the flesh and emotion. Her love is pure and burns with a fire greater than all the stars in the sky. Her love is as the virgin’s love for Mother and Father. Her love asks for nothing and offers nothing, yet this love sustains the place that’s a place, in this time that’s a time.

“What have you done?” Father asked from above.

“I have done nothing.”

“You have and this does not please me.”

“What pleases me should please you. What I have done pleases me.”

Father looked deeply into creation. “This does not please me because they are not like us. There, your light dances with what is not you. The darkness can, and will, climb upon the mountain and take even you into its shadow.”

She saw his wisdom and the truth lying in his words. “Then, I will walk among them. They will see my light.”

“You do not understand what you have done. You do not understand its nature.”

She thought into his words. “If I cannot walk among them, I will send my light among them instead, so they can have a star to guide them and I can learn and understand.”

“You cannot.”

“Then stop me.”

Father could not stop her because Father’s love for her was pure and offered nothing and demanded nothing, yet his love sustained her.

When we get to the mountain, we must have learned and know love as she knows love, else creation shall end. We must watch carefully those passing through this place a place in a time a time, for those souls she sends among us so we can learn this love.

We, all of us, know this love and we know the light. Yet, we know the darkness, too, because we are both. We are not like her, but we can be like her. We must learn this if we are to free ourselves and free her from what she’s created.

Madam Dandelion’s eyes deepened, dancing with the reflection of the bonfire. “And, that is my telling this night.”