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Caveat: Everything on this page and within this web site is copyrighted and protected by law, and may not be used, broadcast or reproduced in any way whole or in part without express written, signed and dated permission of author and copyright holder. The Lady
Awakens Peaceful was Her slumber, filled with dreams of wood and stream, earth and sky, planets, galaxies, eternity, and of beings and elementals and spirits who came to be known to Her only by their emerging essences, silent lives who as yet had no name nor need of any name. Silently She slept among them, dreaming forth their evolutions, breathing with their awakenings, delighting in their births, grieving distantly at their deaths, and rejoicing in their rebirths again and again, and yet again. They knew Her only by Her whispers on the wind, Her hair fluttering among them as butterfly wings on a breeze, Her caresses as leaves falling softly to blanket the forest floor, melting, crumbling into mulch that is gripped in hungry anticipation of Spring by the hard, frozen earth held captive beneath the heavy snows of Winter. They greeted Her only with their thoughts, adored Her with their dreams, and loved Her with their very existences. The minions and multitudes were Her glory, and She was their Green Lady, the One Who Sleeps, the Mother, the Goddess, the Maiden, the Queen, She who awaits the turning of seasons as She might the turning of sheets in the night. For immortalities upon immortalities it had been so, Her tiny and infrequent stirrings at first garnering no notice at all, then only a fleeting awareness, and then even later, attracting only the recognition and attention of the nature spirits and sprites who in time came to live among Her in Her Tree. First denying, then curious, then wondering, then with final despair they acknowledged Her. For to awaken The Lady was an unthinkable sin, but The Lady indeed was awakening. At first Her movements were like the subtle suggestion of a shower in Spring: a gentle whiff of ozone on the air, a subtle acceleration of moisture in the lungs. Hesitant and uncertain, like a mere flutter in sleep, were Her movements. Had Her limbs stiffened within the confines of Her Tree? they wondered. Had She decided, within Her deep slumber, that something was in need of slight adjustment in Her world or this? Had She dreamed that such slight adjustment would accomplish the task? They reasoned so, hoped so, prayed so, for nothing else they could imagine would cause Her to stir. But stir She did, and with increasing frequency, within but a measure of moons, and far short of a full cycle of seasons, for Fall had yet to arrive and the Earth was not yet in its full abundance. They sensed Her stretching out Her long legs from their eternally fetal position within the thick, gnarled trunk of the tall oak tree that in this era had become her home. She drew in Her long, spidery arms which for centuries had reached along thick branches and tiny twigs alike toward both earth and sky. She twisted and squirmed, first curling, then unfurling her elongated and ubiquitous self along its branches and boughs. She was not anxious to leave Her musky and ambrosial womb, but Her thoughts had turned toward the doings of Men, and She was troubled. She had tasted of their wanderings and sampled the odors of their transgressions. But something was changing in ways She could no longer foresee, and The Lady was attuned to such dangers. And so, She moved. She moved until the thickest branches began to show signs of a crack. She stretched until mid-summer leaves were shaken prematurely from their limbs. She reached, curled and uncurled, until finally only one of two things could happen: Either Her Tree, loving home, guardian and friend for so long, would be split asunder by the throngs of Her awakening, or She must abandon Her slumber and dispel Herself willingly from its depths, leaving such worry for tomorrow as to where and how She could find such respite again. She knew this, and so step forth She did. Her Tree quivered in thanks and in sorrow, for it had been home to Her since before the Before Time. It thanked Her in silent and reverent adoration for the salvation of its structure and life. It called to Her with silent tears, and with Her Tree Heart, She promised to try to return. But even She did not know how that could be. Never before had She been awakened other than of Her own will, and never before had She been so summoned and hastened. Something had called to Her, something ominous and sad, something only She could address, only She would be able to contain. She heeded the call and stepped forth from Her Tree, taking form to herself as would ice crystals in the midst of a blizzard. All the inhabitants of the wood stared at Her in wonder. Even sightless things became aware of Her awakening. Even mindless things experienced Her presence among them. The Goddess of the Tree has awoken! The Maiden of the Wood is among us! But why would this be? they murmured. They knew only enough to have fear. # |
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