The trees reached up to tickle the sky, and the clouds giggled and squirmed out of reach. Green met blue in a whirlwind dance of leaves, the branches grasping at the air and the oceans chasing the runaway breeze. Land and Sky loved to play, nudging little birds along as they flew in the space between, in the overlap of heavy soil and light winds.
They invented new colors together, fabricating lovely oranges and yellows, purples and blues, hues marbled in the Sky and reflected in the Land. They experimented with sight and sound and smell, with the rumbling of mountains and the buzzing of the bees, the scent of honey and lavender and all things pretty and golden, but never excluding the silver or bronze. Lights trailed behind water droplets, bouncing off their shiny surface. They fed on each other’s kindness, rainbows circling the misty mornings.
Land and Sky were mothers, nurturing their children and caring for them until they were ready to be free, to explore the world that they’d created together. Their love knew no bounds, and even the stars spoke of their harmonious companionship. It was a stream, they’d say, a never ending river that stretched up into the heavens and dug deep into the valleys of the earth, bountiful and ever-providing.
But it couldn’t last forever, for Land and Sky were not meant to be. Because although they loved — oh how they loved — their love could only stretch so far before it was snapped.
The rumbling of the mountains turned into deafening grumbles and shakes that split the earth into pieces too small to be put back together again. The buzzing of the bees turned into crackles and snaps that shook the clouds in vengeful song. Birds stopped flying and lights stopped chasing, and the vibrant hues and sparkling golds and silvers dulled and darkened until there was nothing but the stars, twinkling down at Land and Sky and wondering how such harmony could turn so dissonant.
Land and Sky were separated, and their children were lost, hovering in a space so empty and devoid of life. No sweetness, no warmth, no place to rest your head. Just helplessness and fear, hope and curiosity.
But then there was a sound. Soft, at first. It was a trickle in the void, a single droplet amongst the silence. And then it was a tick tick tick, and a hiss, and the rush of a tiny stream. It grew louder and louder, and the children opened their eyes and perked their ears, and the stars blinked, brightening just a little. The lights ventured out, tentatively, nervously peering around. Was it over, they wondered, did they dare to believe? But then they heard the water, with its tick tick tick-s, and the humming of the mist, and the lights giggled and chased in pursuit of their kind songs.
The colors came back, and the sights and sounds and smells, the laughter and tickles and leaves dancing in the wind. For their love was a river, stretched high into the heavens and buried deep into the earth, turning and leaping and soaring and diving until their ends met to form a circle. A never ending circle of hopes and dreams, love and warmth, light and harmonious song.
And Land and Sky were reunited once again.