This is what I know of creation:
It has two parts. The first, the part that gives life, I can’t claim to understand. There are way too many theories and beliefs. I being a mere mortal wouldn’t dare to try to explain that.
The second, I lived through and still do. This is the part I want to tell you about. I am living well, I have good life moments and bad ones, just like everyone I know. And there are times that life gives me nothing but the dry soil beneath my feet. Life gave me the dry earth of disappointment, dried up memories, —
I walked with that weight on my shoulder, my back bent to stitches. Until the day I started pounding the soil with frustration. I pounded, fueled by all the pain, fear, anger and insecurities of my life. I pounded until my flesh bled, angry tears falling and sweat dripping.
Yet somehow, these softened the soil. And once past the frustrations,
I noticed the mold that became of the soil, I discovered the use of a soft touch. I saw the strength of gentle molding, and used that. I sang and caressed the soil to the shape of my dreams.
This is how I learned of creation, dear one. This is when I learned that I, am capable of creating. The person I am today is because of the success and failure of my creation. So, I stand here as a simple human, still discovering.
I now stand before you—
Ask me for a mother or father,
I will mold with a smile on my face, adding drops of unconditional love and protection from the bright colors of life. And from the dark ones, I may find some temper or neglect to spice up the mix. A parent you may have.
Ask me for a husband or wife,
And I will mold love, devotion and romance into my soil. Maybe even pinches of jealousy and infidelity. I will add what I have, and you may have a partner.
Ask me for a brother or sister,
I will mold a sibling with multiple colors of adventure, companionship, mischief and even rivalry for you. You may have a sibling.
Ask, dear one. Ask for a friend, ask for a neighbor, ask for a lover, ask —
And I, will collect the sweet and sour essence of my being and mold one for you in all its perfection and imperfections.
BUT, do not ask me for the person I created from the bare, dry earth of my life. Do not ask me to sacrifice the person I mourned and celebrated myself to be. Because dear one, this is one being I cannot give away. Not even to you. This is the being I will always choose.
This is the being I created, remember?