Birth
Birthed from the dark, the dark that made the night, the night that made the dark, the sun hiding and the moon shining, Kahi stretches himself under the seven stars as the heavens turn over the fire of the earth. Lua joins Kahi, opens herself in the darkness of their mother, the night. They will be joined by their brothers and sisters but for now they are alone together in the dark. They see before eyes. They feel before skin. They know before synapses fire. They find each other under the watching stars, under the watching night. They will see the birth of life, witness the creatures of earth, of water, before birthing their own.
True Gods
Kahi finds himself lounging in pjs on the sofa, the lanai door open to the ocean breeze, Lua ordering laulau for delivery because she has a craving for steamed taro leaves and poi. They have spent the new century, as their creations called it, indulging in living an American lifestyle. Recently, they had decided to adopt a few cats, who promptly decided that they were the actual gods and lorded over them with ease. Kahi didn’t mind. He felt a kinship with their demanding cries for food and head bumps for pets, which they received both promptly and abundantly. It was only natural to offer them their due. It was kind of nice, he thought, giving in to the needs of others.
Chicken or the Egg
Lua often wonders why she is second. It’s the chicken and the egg thing, right? Which came first? She knows the answer because she is the egg and life comes from all eggs. Kahi would argue with her about this since, you know, he’s first. She just lets him keep believing that. She doesn’t want another apocalypse tantrum like the last one where he killed off all of the creatures she had worked so hard on creating, you know, using eggs. She was also experimenting with live births when it happened. Luckily those creations and some of the smaller egg layers survived so she could continue, but man, he can be such a baby sometimes.
Echoes of Rock and Air
Kahi thinks he can write a song. He’s been listening to a lot of old country lately. A little Nelson here, a little Patsy there, some Johnny and Merle sprinkled on top. He has created many wondrous and amazing things. Writing a song should be a piece of cake, he thinks. He created gods of inspiration, so composing a little ditty shouldn’t be that hard.
He listens to Loretta, borrowing some of her magic to create his. He strums a strata or two, finding a key. Yes, that will do nicely, he thinks. The rocks created before him carry sounds just as old, perfect for what he wants, he plucks words from the ether and starts…on the edge of the mining town, in a little shack, fallen, fallen, fallen, a woman waits for her man to come home, darlin’, darlin’, darlin’, she doesn’t know he’s not a comin’, comin’ comin’, still she waits, a baby, growin’, growin’, growin’.
Lua feels the earth shake as he sings and plays, worries he will destroy the very people he is singing about. She strums the strata in the air, lightening the melody and adds…on the edge of the mining town, in a little shack, fillin’, fillin’, fillin’, a woman lives with her family, lovin’, lovin’, lovin’, the air carries their joy, driftin’, driftin’, driftin’, to the men and boys, workin’, workin’, workin’ in the mines of this little mining town.
Kahi stops playing as Lua finishes, their duet echoing through rock and air. It’s the first time they have collaborated in a long time and he’s glad. He leans into her, and she smiles, knowing what she has saved.
Alien Buddha Press 