In the beginning, the Creator shaped the Earth. He formed the land and the sea, crafting a world of contrast and potential. To awaken life, He infused His creation with love and desire—forces that stir movement, longing, and union.
Yet a divine law governed this realm: if Earth and Sea, driven by passion, ever embraced, their union would dissolve boundaries and summon catastrophe. Earth would merge with Sea, and the world would drown in deluge. So, the Creator bound the Sea with a solemn vow: “Until the end of the age, you must remain distant from the Earth.”
Without love and desire, life could not be born. But where love exists, a path always emerges.
Under the blazing sun, Earth burned with the fire of longing. The Sea too suffered—its waters turned to sweat, rising as vapor into the sky. That vapor gathered, swelling into storm clouds, heavy with the Sea’s yearning.
The storm ascended, dark and fierce, filled with the soul of the Sea. Earth gazed upon it and saw her beloved within. She raised her arms to welcome the tempest.
In the downpour of love, Earth was drenched. She conceived. And from her womb, life was born.
The storm comes and goes; it’s a never-ending cycle. Each time, Earth and Sea touch briefly, birthing new life. The Creator’s vow becomes a rhythm, not a rule. Rain becomes ritual.
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