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sacrifice of the God
Alone, the Goddess and the God walk into the forest, both of them knowing that only she will return. There is no hesitation on his part; he knows that his time is over, that everything that comes from the Earth must one day return to it; he knows that the life he has sown will continue. Seeing the slight swelling of the Goddess' belly, he has the satisfied feeling of a craftsman seeing a work in progress; uncompleted as yet, but he knows that the result will be good. They find the centre of the forest. He sits down beneath an old tree almost entirely covered with ivy vines; she sits with him and they embrace for the last time. He sits back against the rough-barked trunk, accepts the knife she holds out to him; together, both hands clasping the handle, they draw the blade across his throat in one clean motion. He shudders as his blood pours forth, but there is no fear in him; she still holds his hands with hers, together until the living spark has faded from his eyes, until the soft earth around the base of the tree has been nourished with his blood. With the knife, she digs out a shallow hole and gently, with reverence, drags his body into it, pushing the soil over him with her hands, gently patting it down and blessing the place with a couple of tears. They are fond tears of nostalgia; she knows (as he did) that they will meet again. |
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