[Voice from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara]
In the beginning was the Past. Father God stood alone, last remaining Titan, proud in his quasi-Omnipotence gained from the overthrow of his enemies.
He created Time, the lever with which he would reach across eternity and weigh all life. And he stood at one end, holding it, fondling it, loving it. Then he created the fulcrum, which he called the Present and which history named the Christ. Then he created the human, the man.
But the man was cold and afraid in the dark and cried. And she heard his sobs in the darkness and drawn by compassion, came forth to comfort him. She came from Spirit, without father or mother. And she made herself human for him and called herself Eve.
“Be not afraid” she said, pressing herself against him. But the man was provoked by her naked truth and violated her. Then she saw the emptiness of his soul, the ugliness of it. She ran away from him but could not go far. She became heavy with child as she walked down the time ramp hoping to find its end. She bore her child in pain and horror but also in love. It grew heavy in her arms and took the life from her as it suckled greedily and painfully.
Father God felt the presence of her weight and that of her child upon his lever and in his quasi-Omnipotence, pushed down to force her to come to him. He sensed a great fear and hatred of her, as if she could somehow put an end to his self-delusion of Omni-grandeur. Eve struggled along the incline of the lever, intent on finding the end. She knew if she surrendered and went back she would be swallowed in the anonymity of slavery and her child would die. But her humanity pulled her down. Exhausted, she dragged herself upward, splinters entering her hands and knees. On and on until finally she could go no more and collapsed. She put the child down and waited.
“The End, my End, will find me here.” She reasoned.
“Why have you stopped, Eve?” Came a gentle voice from the darkness before her.
“I can’t go anymore. I am empty. My child is starving. This is my end.”
“It never is, Eve. You have travailed throughout the history of humanity and you bore the future in your womb and in your arms. You suckled it from your spirit. It surely will not die. And neither will you. Listen carefully — It is always the darkest and coldest just before the dawn. You are not dying, you are changing.
You’ve come to the edge of human.
Look at your child – it’s not like you, nor like its father. It is all that you ever wanted for your world and yourself. Let it stand on its own. It will take your hand and lead you into a new world. The world in your mind. For that is who this child is: your world. You created it, from your hopes, dreams and feelings. From your sufferings and pain. From your dignity and strength. From your walk that refused to surrender to any man, demon or God.”
And her child stood beside her and picked her up. With one blow, the curtain of darkness was rent in half and she saw a shimmering light beyond, at the end of the coarse wooden ramp she’d walked on for so long; where she had left a trail of tears and blood. The great hell of time deflated like a balloon behind her and she walked forward, knowing that she was now more than human, more than god or goddess, something entirely new.
But she remains Eve.
“Follow the raven into shadow and you will find the light” (medicine man saying)