Child of the Sun

Dad always told me we are all the children of the same Father and he lives in all of us and around us, he uses different avatars, wherever this means. Sometimes he tells me things, which I am sure I will figure out in time, but not right now. It is important to remember and remember them, when the time comes.

This is a story daddy loves to tell. 

In fact he tells it every time as if he had never told it before. He is always enthusiastic and he goes through the smallest details. Both I and my mom know this story perfectly well, but we all listen to it as if we had never heard it before. 

It was late autumn. The three of us – I, Mommy and Daddy – walked next to some river, a river looking for the Sea. On its way, it passed through the forest. 

But there water likes to take a break and it flowed widely to both sides. There it formed huge pools, and trees loved to relax their deep roots inside of them. Daddy always told me about the beautiful reflections in the forest, as if you were seeing it breathe. 

Going out of the forest, dry land started drying off the moisture of earth and gradually the river would flow together again and stepped directly to the beach, where it curved its estuary. 

The most interesting thing is that I was on this walk, but I do not remember it, because I haven’t been born yet. 

The weather was cool and windy, and windier and cooler still by the Sea. 

The sky was greying, caught in a foggy, cloudy drape. Clouds interspersed the sky, which folded out and in again. 

The sun was there, but it wasn’t truly shining. 

Then Daddy said to Mommy to show me to the Sky so that I can meet my Big Daddy. She listened to him and she bared her bulging belly. Not a minute passed and the Sun started showing beneath the cloudy cape. 

It was bright and large and shone upon me. 

The two Fathers started talking. 

Daddy told him: “This is your child!” 

The sun glowed red and lit the sky up with pride! 

The clouds flamed out, even the water that never burns. 

The big father stretched, he offered his hand to the Mother Moon.  

Ethereal and caressing, but also a little strict, it climbed up and up, so it could see me, too. 

And so! 

They all embrace one another – the Sun and the Moon and the three of us in the middle. 

Mommy and I, Daddy with me and Mommy. 

The sea is whistling – a wind ballad is whispering,  

and the cold forces us to come together in a quiet hug. 

I often think and ponder over this case and every time I find something new. 

Maybe in time I will understand this story better.