In with the New

A quieter day was passing for Thalia, the gentle warmth of the sun nesting in the sunset and leaving space to a moon full of pale and bewitching beauty. Dad giving her honey a goodnight kiss and leaving her with Mommy, Thalia would think, since she had been adopted by the very gods of sun and moon. Though the celestial bodies trading places weren’t the real deal, but faithful recreation. Mom and dad were giving light to Earthland and many worlds in the cosmos, so Thalia had to roll up her sleeves and create a sun and moon with her own hands for her domain, as long as many stars glistening in the dark night. The latter were only images of sun, yet Thalia’s mind was already running high with new additions for her cosmos: nebulas, quasars, clusters and clusters of galaxies; black hole and supernovas, for true sublime does not also come from scale but potency, and destruction of the old was something necessary in a living universe for new beauty to come.

Thalia leaned her head back, a cascade of fuchsia hair falling on the ground; a symphony of fragrances was filling the hair, coming from all kinds of flower imaginable, many of whom Thalia had invented from nothing. She could hear the placid whoosh of rivers flowing from the mountains afar, or gargantuan recreations of Earthland’s finest buildings and sculptures, sometimes suspended by the chats and plays of angels. She turned her head right and left, to look for them far and wide: her babies were sprawling everywhere in the grass or under the sea, in the sand and in the air. Creating a sentient life out of nothing was a talent Thalia was endowed even before ascending to godhood: in fact, it was the very reason her mother noticed her and welcomed in her family of deities in the first place, to spread life and beauty whenever there was desert. Her infinite time in the formless Heaven, where seconds where but directions souls ebb and flows in the realm of imagination, Thalia had spent eons practicing in her art of bringing new children to life.

At first, she had created angels from mundane bases, taking inspiration from humans, beasts and plants; then upped her game by faithfully recreating creatures from mythology, elves and fairies, and sidhes; she triumphed by sculpting new beings out of nothing, so outlandish even the dreams of most fiction authors couldn’t conceive- before she made them appear to those artists with boundless love for their craft in their dreams, of course. Even those forms, however, were seen as something purely ephemeral: all of Thalia’s children were endowed with the ability to change their shape in anything they desired; anything that fitted her tastes- better, their true nature, for that was something everyone has the unalienable right to follow, live by and even reinvent.

Right in the approaching dusk, all of the angels in Heaven were assuming a similar form for alike purposes: that of winged beings, riving the air in flocks. Thalia smiled; she jumped back on her two feet, then waltzed to the ocean afar, the endless pool where the sunset was basking in. With a graceful leap, she reached the sky, soaring above the clouds so much she could touch the Vault of Heaven. Her being resounded in joy: free from any burden, it expanded to tremendous size, making buildings look like anthills by comparison. Yet she still landed on the water with such grace phoenix feathers could envy, leaving small, elegant ripples on the ocean as the only of her gargantuan presence. Her children reached her: in the darkening sky, they all looked like glowing dots to the immense goddess, cute fireflies. They swarmed on they mather, drawing figures in the sky around and above Thalia. From her perspective, she saw hundreds or forms transpiring and changing in the sky, elegant lines of light endlessly mutating with her in the middle. Figures in height, spirals, circles, quadridimensional cubes; then shapes resembling nature, flower corollas, loti. Thalia’s heart sank with joy before such spectacle; her skin tingled with pleasure at the passage of the light games. Not satisfied with being a mere spectator any long, she joined her children dance, turning in a small dot and jumping into the mass of playful angels. Her own light was barely distinguishable, she was a tiny glimmer of blue. She flew faster than any of her children, wanting to explore from the inside what she had seen on the outside, skimming around formations which were growing more and more complex, and more and beautiful with each change of form. Feeling her mother’s enthusiasm transpiring from each pore of her body, Thalia’s children doubled their effort and coordination: they started to build whirling statues, rippling cathedrals, spinning masses of mountain sprawled with vegetation. Thalia perceived they effort and cried with joy; she flew faster, to be sure she could greet each of her babies with the warmth of her smiles.

In the imaginary timeline governing the goddess, world, if faithful to real-world reality, the sun had settled for hours, the facsimiles of stars glowing brighter in the blackened vault of the sky. After so much time spent playing, it was time for rest for the cohort of angels. Thalia jumped back to a gargantuan form, reaching soaring heights, so large she could welcome the entirety of her progeny on her chest. Angels flocked on her, founding a welcoming spot in the upper zone of her bosom, hugging on her like sleeping babies. Thalia song a lullaby to her laying children, with a voice so powerful it echoed throughout each fiber of the makeshift plane, yet so sweet it could bring only joy to hears and souls. Thalia wished her children a good, peaceful night; pleasant dreams, and a life full of good things and happiness. Hearing from them a concert of yawing, the goddess giggled. She said a final goodnight and blew a kiss: her children scattered, reaching each their home or favorite nest. Thalia smiled, and herself yawned also. She stretched her massive, golden arms, almost touching the vault boundaries with her talons. Perhaps a good time of rest was due to her too, to help her deal better with the problems and troubles of her tomorrow.