What We Know of Goddesses

for W.H. Pugmire

Atop great mountains, on high thrones, sit the gods—beards long and glowing with the light of dead stars. Always their dark, playful eyes are hot with mischief. They delight in a belief that the goddesses are impressed by their whimsical creations, amused even. Surely they got a kick out of Homo sapiens, that inferior clay fumbling wildly over the layout of design—such fodder for comedy! Perhaps. But in dull pockets of timelessness, when the bearded ones are idle, the goddesses—because it is their way—have been known to nurture humanity’s fetal spirit, to channel love there, to plant seeds of art and philosophy, to spark ambition, and curiosity. Myriad tasks are assigned to fairies, mystics, and angels; demons too, if they should lead to a truth. Much then becomes enhanced in the spectra of human souls, in the course of man’s future. Sure, the gods are ingenious and powerful in their ways; of that there is no doubt. But lest they forget, they are equaled. Very much equaled.

(From the book The Hunchback's Captive and Others)