Finding our metaphor

She was born an ocean, all calm philosophy and turbulent contention. He was born a dormant volcano, tall, majestic and strong, with fire stewing in his core, never released and never changing. Tectonic plates shifted, time wore and brought them together, and her waves lapped against his secure exterior, attempting to wear down the battlements and coax the core.

This is how mythology is born, isn’t it? Finding in our own stories of triumph and loss, of heartsick sorrow and joy, connections to the terrifyingly elating splendor of the natural world around us. Everyone has metaphors. They may change their whole lives through, or they may be the same with only subtle changes over the course of their lives.

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