Posted in:   From the Tale
Hecate passes Her right hand through the iridescent mist, gathering up musky droplets of condensation. Her fingers curl into a tight fist and then uncurl to reveal a single, jet black seed.
She presses the seed to Her lips, her eyes dreamy and seemingly lost in the afterglow of love making.
“This is the story seed of the master Tale of Creation,” Hecate says, “Of all the lost stories, it is the one I grieve the most. With its loss, you have forgotten the deepest, most exquisite parts of your human nature: that you were conceived, like all of Creation, from the ecstatic coupling of light and matter, and of God and Goddess; that love, the primal desire to create and nurture new life, is the very base of your essence; and that each of you has your own unique fragment of the Cosmos in your starlit core. These are the gifts that life has granted you and that you have squandered.”
The delicious heat leaves my body and I clutch at the power place in my solar plexus.