"I can make you happy
I can be anything you want me to

But I wish you could stay
You, that's all I want

In these two lines, I promise
I'll always be in your heart"

Bethany smirked to herself. Ah what a childish delight. She took respite in her poetry; it was really all she needed for herself.

She sighed and put down her pen. The sun was setting, it was getting late. Tomorrow would be a busy day, for it would be her day. It would be her day to love, her day to give, to sing, and flourish in a soft, but warm yellow light.

“Come thee mortals
And you shall see
A story of old
All told by three”

Listen to the words not
For they are just words
But feel it inside you
And feel it for all”

Bethany gathered up her belongings and started off on the short walk home. She walked, nay, she ran, skipped, and even frolicked on the familiar trail she took. The same trail she took for years, and will take for many, many more years. She made quite clear of her mirth. And then the sun disappeared, and she slept with a grin.

Earlier she had gathered up flowers of all kinds. Lavender, lilac, pansies, anything the Earth would give to her.

Finally the moon relinquished its reign over the Earth, and let the sun take back his place upon the throne.

Bethany was already awake. She couldn’t help but feel excited; after all, times like these only come once a year. She nearly squealed with delight. With a permanent smile on her face, she adorned her head with the wreath of flowers she had made, and slide her dress around her slender frame. Bethany knew she was beautiful. She did not gloat about it, everyone knew it too, it was just fact. Wanting to see how her newly made halo looked, Bethany waltz over to her looking glass. What a site indeed! Bethany gazed upon herself with magnificent green eyes. She took all of herself in, first to the wreath, which was a little crooked, then to her long blonde hair which spilled all over her shoulders. Then to her cheery smile, soft rose-red lips, past her round little chin, farther down her slender neck, to her ample breasts which filled her dress perfectly. The dress! Of course she saw this next. The lovely ivy green color, it even seemed to have been sewn with real ivy. What craftsmanship that would have been needed to make such a masterpiece! Smiling once again, she twisted and turned to make sure everything was straight and neat. After all she did want to look her best.

And look her best she did. Not wanting to waste anymore time admiring herself, Bethany scurried outside. She had gotten into the habit of timing her walks perfectly. By the time the sun would begin to rise, she would already be waiting in the gardens. Waiting for what? Humanity. Bethany had wonderful gifts she wanted to give. Although the gifts she gave them do not even begin to compare to the gift they gave her. They gave her everything, their love, their sadness, even their hate. It was all hers. For a while even the newborn and the dead were hers to claim. Every possession known to mankind became hers.

As Bethany walked through the forests and fields, she also wrote. She found inspiration everywhere, in everything. So naturally writing came easy to her.

”I am the wind in your hair
The sun on your skin, and even
The ground beneath your feet

And as you move me
Through me
I move you, through you
For you shape me
As I shape you”

Bethany smirked once more. Whenever she would write, there would always be a sense of accomplishment, or a kind of fulfillment.

Always the tactful one, she did indeed make it to the gardens just as the sun rose. Bethany chose her favorite spot upon the hill. On that hill there was a bench lying under an enormous willow tree.

She approached the bench and took her usual place upon it. Bethany enjoyed this area because of the view. From the hill she could see their civilization. She could see the constructs of man, the homes, the churches, the schools. No matter how many times she came and sat upon this bench, that very sight never ceased too impress her. It inspired her, so she wrote more.

“I wonder if man
Will ever glance upon himself
See what he has become

It’s a pity
Those that really see
Are those that die

Their affairs are not mine
I merely observe

Men and women struggling
Leeching what they can
They can barely feed themselves

The rich giving to them
Their generosity untold
It’s a shame they hide it”

Then as with the coming of dawn, so the people came. From the homes they spilled fourth. At first it was just a few, maybe ten, then twenty. Forty, eighty, they came until it seemed the entire village had left their homes to the garden in which Bethany sat. They knew what awaited them, the gifts that Bethany brought with her. She smiled with an open heart as they swarmed past her with grins on their faces and laughter in the air, they marveled over the creations of the Earth. Where there was only grass, flowers and even trees sprouted from the ground. Bethany enjoyed their mirth. It was like this every time she came. Soon they would adorn themselves with flowers, bring them to their homes and adorn their lives with Earth’s essence.

”It amazes me
How people can forget
Just for a few moments
Of how cruel the world is

It saddens me
The laughter will die
And it will stay here
The world will still be cruel

Should I cry for them?”

Bethany did cry. A single tear fell down her smooth cheek and fell onto the paper she was writing on. She felt sorry for these people. She wasn’t seeing what was the now, the mirth and excitement, she was seeing the then, when they go back to their homes and struggle to survive. Mortality, it seems, is such a cruel joke.

As Bethany cried, it began to rain. A drop fell on her hand. In disbelief she looked up and another on her forehead.  The smile returning to her lips she put away the pen and paper and sat up. The rain fell exactly in the same manner as the people left their homes. First there were a few drops, then more and more and more. It gained momentum and quickly enough there was a downpour. The people all cheered the same. They had a belief that the first rainfall cleansed their soul and cleared their minds. Perhaps they were right.

Bethany wasted no time enjoying the rain. She loved it. She felt like a child all over again, dancing, laughing, singing, eve splashing in the puddles. She didn’t even mind that her dress was getting soaked with rainwater. Her mind put off everything else, even her writing. All she did was dance and play and dance some more. Bethany didn’t even realize how far into night it was getting, until it was too late.

Not even realizing the rain had stopped, Bethany got up and sat back down on the bench. Suddenly there was dizziness, a sickening in her stomach. She had come to see that the sun was setting and her time was coming to a close. Scrambling off the bench, she tried to hurry back to her home. Bethany got back into the woods; it was all the farther she would go. Running, she tripped over a root, or a rock, she didn’t really see. Then all went black.

Sunlight pierced Bethany’s eyes. The first thought in her mind was the speculation of where she was. She woke with a start and saw familiar surroundings, the rocks where she usually came to write her poetry. Her wreath was gone, but her dress was still there. At least she had her dignity. Sitting up Bethany patted her pockets. There the pen and the paper remained unharmed. But something seemed different, she could feel it. She turned around to face there trail. Sure enough there stood a man, a friend. This was no normal man. He had hair of flame red, thin eyebrows to match, a gaunt face and a pointed chin. His small eyes beheld a piercing gaze; the azure of his eyes could be seen from great distances. To top his character off the robes which he wore were of reds, yellows, and oranges so bright, you would have to shield your eyes just to gaze upon them.

Of course Bethany knew who he was and what he wanted. He just looked at her. With a sad look she took out the pen and paper and handed it to the man. There was no dialogue between them, there needed to be none. This was not the first time this transaction had happened to them, nor would it be the last time. Putting the items in his robes, he turned around and walked towards the village. Although he was late, it was his time to shine. As he was leaving Bethany thought of one last poem.

“I know I’m as reckless as the day
And I know I’m not the perfect one
Yet I’m still the same today
As much as people love my coming
I’d never change what I’ve done

These words form in my head
Oh, what a horrible sight
To see the springtime dead
Although summer dawns anew
I must leave with the failing light”