In a shower of rain, a voice pierced the quiet of Mount Olympus
“Hello young Zeus”
The god woke from staring at Sisyphus pushing a rock
“Who are you? Where are you? Intruder into my thoughts.”
“I am beneath your feet among the puddles and stones.”
“Name yourself traveller to my throne.”
“Our name we do not know.”
“Then tell me of your kind” boomed the god looking in between his toes.
“We live in the ice and can slumber for ages - when it thaws, we awaken. We swim the oceans and till the lichens. We have been to the moon and bathe in the heat of exploding suns - but do not live in their hearts for long. We have the strength of a thousand mountains crushed into sand. We shrink in the dry dunes and come back to life when the rain comes.
Time knows us as its companions who never die -
We began at the beginning and continue on watching all that come and go.”
“How is it you still live in the world and while I am relegated to words in a book?”
“We cannot answer this question except to say - perhaps you sit too high and need to get down into the dirt – grow fat chewing mossy loam, learn what the little things know.”
“This is wisdom worthy of a god. Will you come to join us and live amongst immortals? What shall we call you?”
“Our name does not matter but for certain we have time to figure them out.”
Clare L Rolfe @ 2020
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