The Birth of the Divine Youth

One day, long ago, the Sun was rising. There was nothing particularly different or special about this day, except perhaps that the clouds were a bit whiter than usual, the waters a little bit more blue. Certainly the Sun was feeling stronger, brighter, returning as he was from the slumbering winter. Who can say was else was different? Perhaps the Sea had made herself a little bit wider, a bit deeper. Perhaps the water in Her wide womb was just a little bit brighter, too? Who can tell?

The Sun is a notorious trickster and the Sea loves to keep her secrets, so they will certainly not be telling. Whatever the reason, that morning of all mornings the Sun looked on the Sea with a different light. He saw in her a beauty and depth He had not before noticed. She saw in Him a spark of Divinity so great and lovely that She just had to feel, to bring into herself. So She did.

When the Sun rose over the horizon, over the ample and fertile flesh of the Sea, they joined in a way they never had before. His burning rays moved into her so quickly, and her white-crested breakers rose higher than ever to greet him. There was a flash in the world when the Sun rose that day, the Sea washed in golden light. The brightness passed as soon as it had come, and all was as it was before, save for the small spot of light still playing on one of the Sea’s crests. The light did not fade, but formed, and in just moments there was a squalling babe cradled in the waves, with a brightness and a spark still shining from his open eyes.

Both the Sun and the Sea were quite certain that this Boy was the most beautiful of His kind ever born, with His shining eyes and high brow. They named Him then in their own tongues. It is not something that we can voice, of course, being made of neither light nor roaring water. But so it goes.

The Youth’s Divine parents loved Him more than anything and tried to keep Him close. The Sea nursed Him; He suckled on Her loamy waves and drank of the brine as if it were ewe’s milk mixed with honey. The Sun caressed his face and kept him warm. They kept hold of the Boy for six days and six nights. On the seventh morning the Sun looked down and said to the Sea, “We cannot keep our darling Son here with us. He has feet – not wings or fins – and must be taken to land. Eventually He will eat more than loam and brine and then where will we be?”

The Sea did not cry – what tears could the Lady produce, though she be already made with all the salted waters of the world? She did cry out, however, from her very depths. Every creature of the world knew her pain. She also know the truth of it and asked the Sun, “But where would we send Him? What out in the world could match His beauty, His brilliance?”

Said the Boy’s father, “I have another son, after a fashion. He is as bright as I and our child can live in his nest. Gold it is – gold straw and gold leaf, piled high and as soft as anything. He will be safe there, and they can take care of eachother as Brothers aught.”

The Boy’s mother agreed haltingly. The Sun called a Rainbow to him, and the Sea kissed her Boy with foamy white lips. With one final, warm touch to the sweet cheek of his son, the father sent him away to be reared by the boy’s brother, the Phoenix. The great bird cawed in delight at the sight of the wondrous babe. His love in that moment was as great as anything, and so excited was he that he grew brighter in that moment than even his golden nest. The boy, carried by rainbow and laid down gently on the golden thatch, looked at the fire-bird with shining eyes. The Phoenix, bursting with delight at the new life in His nest, tucked a wing about the boy, and together they slept.

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