At the beginning the ocean earth knew day and night and little else. The moon was dusty and alone in the dark so it made a play to avoid obscurity, saying, “I will rule the waters. I have no light but I will give my heart and it will be a pulse in this world, and the waters will know life by it.” And the oceans began to surge and thrive, and life knew what it was to rise and fade away. The sun was glad and blessed the moon with light, and the moon made itself visible by degrees, sometimes advancing into radiance, sometimes retreating into renewal. And as life moved onto land it carried the oceans in blood, and it knew the tides inside. The pulse gave a rhythm that matched and made sense of the world: gathering strength and giving strength up; waxing with desire and waning with gratitude; dancing madly in the silvered night and lying still in the vast night of stars. Even as the mind of elsewhere forgot such things, the body of life remembered.