A Creation Story

Sleeping on a Buoy

There was a time when Primordial Self had to take on the forms of man and woman to exist.  I wonder if some force warned Self with a caveat of existence.  A guardian of recreation who would say something like: “Gain the ability to be born once more and I guarantee you a cosmic infinite sea of death filled by the tears of your forgetting yourself.”

And there was poor Primordial Self with no idea who or when or where or why it was, but faced simply with the choice to continue.  To this day this incarnation of Self has no idea.  But if I had to defend my old actions and future ones as well to some higher guardian of the threshold, I would say: “By my actions an infinite sea of death and tears is filled, but on it’s surface floats a beautiful boat.  Where on it sails, who can say?  For whom does it rock sleepily in the waves?”