"The Ages"

The theory is that when the sun goes down, when it sleeps, the spirits awaken- beautifully, mystically- to a darkness so deep it is like an ocean. Men are rich with desire and speak to the air. Women perform rituals in the night. By the waning glow of fire, they weave dreams. This is the theory- the theory of our birth. We all come from the spirits at our backs and clear the path ahead of hardship, turmoil, temptation- but of course, we are still only human and cannot shield our futures from every evil. Our children will always know a little of what we have tasted in the past, even if what we leave behind is not so very pleasant on the tongue. When the forests are gone and the skyline replaces the treetops, when no longer would any passing child be able to distinguish plant roots that heal from those which cause harm, when our skies are filled with smoke and our seas are drowning in filth and our bodies decay even as we live- when those hours come, my own son, at least will be prepared. If nothing else, I give him history so alive that it breathes. Let him drink it in and cherish it. There is so little of it now.
My mother told me, this is how I came to exist, and we all came to live in this world; she said : you were made from flame, of flame, and your blazing wings will be hungry - starving for the chance, at last, to fly.
Papa- I remember this, though I was quite small when he left us- would carry me on his back around our village. I watched the faces of the people- so young, some of them were, and yet there were lines deeply etched into their skin and their eyes were heavy and dark with exhaustion.
He is gone now, my father. He is gone.
The theory is that he looked death in the face, but all that he saw was his own reflection, gleaming in the water.