Nyx

You sprang from the void, fully born, clothed in the shadows that existed only because you did. Your lips moved in rhythm to the prophecies that would shape our world, your eyes half-blind by the dark that only you could pierce. And pierce it you did, and you saw he, your brother, the keeper of the black that existed in the realm between worlds. He who sprung from the chaos-void with you, who was all else that was. The keeper of the veil, strong-shouldered and handsome, full of intent. 

And you took him to bed, and what did spring forth? But Death and Day, Air and Fates, Furies and Maiden Keepers of the Golden Apple, Sleep and Old Age, Satire and Dreams. 

From your womb sprung forth the children that would terrorize and grieve all mortal-kind for eternity, and endure the ethereal balance would remain intact.For what is life without sleep? Sleep without dreams? Night without day? You gave us balance; bitterness and sweetness. For what is Misery without Joy? 

But alone you bore the egg that hatched love, golden-winged and more divine than man could ever hope for. But your heart finds no favorites; you gather each child to your breast should they call, and your wrath has no measure. 

Silent Night! Do you fly by wing or chariot? What steed could pull you so tenderly across the heavens, chasing your daughter from eve to eve? Do you find relief in the touch of twilight? In the blurred silhouette of civilization? To you your children still flock, lost in the shadows. We stand upon our roofs in the pale of midnight, and turn our eyes to the star-flung skies. There is something sacred, still, in the night, and we know you are there. That you abide by us in silence, strong and tall. 

You are the mother, you are the protector. You are strength in hardship, perseverance in the face of the impossible. Your touch is cold and soothing, your hands strong and patient. You do not pursue your children, for they will come to you. And come we have, slowly and surely, as we retrace our way back into the night. 

Why did they teach us to fear you? What monster truly crouched in the shadows? There was none but you, nightingale upon your shoulder as you weaved your moonflowers. Pretty crowns for your children, patient and compassionate, silent and strong. 

How fragrant the blossoms! How many the tears! Mother, how I've missed you!