Symphony of Existence

Out of the nothingness of the Void there suddenly came a wondrous Singing. Two notes—soft, clear, insistent—grew in strength and purpose amid the emptiness, forcing it back, ever back, and away. The two notes grew into voices, and the voices spun outward in great oscillations of joy. What a glory to Live!

Together, the voices melded into a thing rich and fluid and full of Power: Music. Their duet was a song, a dance, and also a seeking; together they reached out to connect and spread their joy, and in so doing, Melody and Harmony Sang the Universe into existence.

Altering their tune slightly—and slowing its energetic pace—they cloaked their energies in the density of flesh to accomplish their task. They fashioned immense, cavernous bodies for themselves, swathed in multi-colored, armored scales to shield them from the ravages of the Void. To maneuver through the inky emptiness they shaped sail-like wings and rudder tails. They created great maws to sing with, and huge bellow-like lungs to support their Song of Life. And in their bellies they put the makings of fire. With these and their strong, nimble, taloned fingers, together they would forge the world.

Finely robed in shining rainbow vestments, they began. Quickening their tune again they sang of love and passion; together with their Song they soared and plunged and whirled and lunged in hungered, lusty rhythms. Their bodies came together in a great rush of rainbow wings, limbs twining about each other in grand braidings of desire. And then: Bliss! They Sang out their mutual pleasure as it washed over them in delicious, pulsing, exultant waves; it traveled from their cores outward, ever outward, and is still traveling, and will travel, always. And evermore.

Exhausted but jubilant, they slept in each others’ embrace for a long, long, sweet while. And when they finally woke, Melody’s belly was heavy with the weight of the world she would soon give birth to. Not long after, Melody bore the world, and in the afterbirth were the stars of the sky, as well as the moon and all manner of glittering, luminescent, celestial things.

And the egg that was the world was a curious, glistening, molten thing: alive and full to bursting like a seed yet layered and ever-growing like a pearl. And as Melody and Harmony watched, the world grew, and grew and grew—layer upon layer upon layer of rich, molten lava she brought forth from her depths to form a grand, tough, nutrient-rich crust. And when the world was done with growing outward, her fine crust completed and cooling, she called out to her parents to come down and speak with her.

“Mother, Father, who am I?” she asked.

“My dear, sweet child,” Melody said, “your name is Gaia.”