Global View

© Randal W. O’Rourke

No one knew for sure how long she had been sleeping. In dog years the span of time was virtually incomprehensible while geologically it probably didn't even qualify as a proper nap. And with slumber come dreams. Bizarre, fractal, subterranean images and sounds which seem to serve only to torment our waking hours, or generously remind us of our fears. Why should she be any different?

The percussive rhythm of the rain was a welcome addition to the melody of the persistent archetypal winds and she had begun to cool down. Moments and years ran together until they lost all meaning, and bending light was less than a parlor trick. So there was time to reflect. Time to heal.

Time to give birth.

The nurturing of precious lives through a delicate incubation and having them thrust into precarious situations that influence their evolution. In her reverie this periodically precipitated a sort of nocturnal gnashing of tectonic molars. So far she had produced trees, flowers, birds, cats, horses, several species of frog, and unfortunately, far too many congressmen and game show contestants.

Aristotle had no idea how long the Earth had been asleep, but if his calculations were correct she was waking up. And if he was any judge of planets she wasn't going to be in a good mood.