What am I?

I am not fire; fire burns hot with passion but dies quickly once it’s consumed its source. I am not water; water hates to be still and must move at every opportunity, always seeking the easiest path no matter the destination. I am not air; air feigns stability yet is a heedless, fickle thing which changes direction and speed without warning.

Then what am I?

I am earth; earth, the foundation of creation, the vessel of life. While fire burns out and water flows ever toward and away, earth remains. Earth cares little for itself, instead offering its riches to the seed-bound possibilities slumbering in its depths, the cycle of lives played upon and above and, in the end, within its body. And like the earth I am nothing more, nor less, than the womb which surrenders its nutrients to nourish fragile ideas from germination to maturation.


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