“Crow, I have been many places with my father and every place we go they tell a different tale of the creator(s). I do not understand why that is.”
“Ha!.”said old crow, “Tis cause not a one of them wanna admit the truth as we bird people see it, that one day Mother Earth was giving her son a good scolding for ruining her gardens, boys will be boys, you see, and so to keep his testosterone laden moods from her flowers, Mother dreamed up plants that made her son sneeze like a moose so that he’d leave her damn plants alone. But he was stubborn as a mule, and MotherEarth had over done it just a bit, so that her son started sneezing most violently one morning, throughout the days and the eve, until he gave one final HATCHUUUU!!!! and scattered into a hundred thousand pieces across the earth. You’re one of those pieces.” Crow curled his beak in distaste and went back to preening.
“Another tale to ponder.” said the little boy. “One day I will find the truth somewhere in between all the tellings.”
Crow rolled his eyes, “The only truth is that there’s no end to it. You live you die you live you die, on and on, blah, blah.”
“Ah, but you see crow, at the epicenter of all things lie the
explanation.”
“Why can’t you be like the other boys and farm or go off and pillage with the rest of them?”
“Perhaps I am piece of MotherEarth’s son’s brainpan?”winked the little boy.
“Smartass.” cawed the crow and flew off to find much less intelligent conversations; he flew and flew until he spotted what he wanted. “Hoho, o, highly regarded male ruler of all the kingdom, how is sire this fine morning?”
The king smiled and lifted his hand. “Look, pretty pink flower.”
Much better, thought crow and settled on a branch
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