Mare. Everything I am I owe to Her. All the good and the bad in my life. All the sorcery and mystery. All the wisdom and madness. Even in the very beginning, before there could be space or time either, when every point of each of us touched every point of each of the others, She was there. She was Herself the one point out of which everything has come. And She was the coming, too. Why do you think we left but to follow Her?

In the very, very beginning, before there was a beginning, when everything was one point, Mare was all the incomprehensible meaning we needed. She held us together,. She made us one. Wholly promiscuous, for we were all together with her - yet wholly caste, for She was as utterly alone as we were -one whole and single point. What greater happiness could there be?

That was the question that doomed us. That we could think it at all bespeaks a terrible flaw in an otherwise perfect wholeness. But, of course, it was our perfection that inspired the question in the first place. How much happier could we be if we were to be part of Her yet apart from Her? How much more happiness would there be if we could see Her and be seen?

And with that question came the necessity for the space to see and the time in which to be seen, the space a hug needs, the time a kiss requires, a space and a time vast enough to embrace all the mystery of Her and equally ample enough to make room for all of us that wanted to see and hold Her.

This was not the first time the aged-stag had ventured to a seeing-pool, requesting audience with a God. Myr was no stranger to their flippant and selfish ways. He had grown to understand their customs, their needs and pleasures over his long years serving their whims. In truth, Myrddin had always assumed that once his physical body yielded itself to the Earth, that he would too become a being of light as they were, allowed to continue his search for wisdom. He knew of no greater treasure, than time; time to continue his search for wisdom. It was no cosmic coincidence that in the last years of his prolonged life, that he would serve the God of the Spark, himself.

As Myrddin entered the cave which held the great mirror, he felt instantly rejuvenated; as if his body had been re-calibrated to the cosmic hum of this ancient and magical place. His joints were no longer held captive by the arthritic monster that lived in his body; he no longer felt weary and burdened by his blindness. With a vigour that he had not felt in years, Myrddin knelt by the pool, dipping his gnarled and twisted horn into the waters. He was no unicorn of old, come to purify the waters so that a maiden may drink, but it was a custom none-the-less.

He would not shout, or beckon the God. His presence here would surely disrupt the terrestrial field enough that any God, much less one woven into the timelines Himself, would be alerted his presence. He was intrigued by this God in particular; Psyche would certainly do well as the matriarch of the newly-created Basin, but what specifically did this God have in mind, yielding her entry into this place?

[OOC: Myr believes there is an ultimate God, the Mare he refers to in his little soliloquy, who created every thing.]

To go on is to go through.
At last, even the seer is cremated.
Each seed loves the dark for the light it promises.