( Ancient Trails ) Have your God, your Allah, your Elohim, your Christ, your Gods all, save for one, the eartH! She is not mine to leave spoiled, she belongs unto herself. She is beautiful, is she not? Yes! She waits upon me, upon my love. Listen to my own words. Hear how they move round and round and would never be or have been without The Mother. My birth? Your birth? Christ's birth? What of The Mother's birth? She’s life, as I know it, but she's so much more than just another planet, she's love, she's goodness, she's the flower and the fruit of all things. All, and I am her child, all grown up now and smart. O! I've much to learn and grow and even more to learn and groan! I am a child of the kingdom of creation, The Mother, The Grandmother, The Great Grandmother, The eartH, Love, Life, Water, Mountain, Air, Sky, and Animal. Whatever I choose to call creation, it's a learning ground, not a playground. I have learned so little of where
(The Weaver's Song)