There once were three Sisters, each born with the same yearning. They yearned to be Mothers. So the three Sisters dropped from the abyss that lay beyond the blue above. One molten drop at a time they arrived. One era at a time they matured.

Oh, how they yearned to be Mothers.

But did you know that the seed is far more elusive than the breath of stars?

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Each Sister mothered a child differently. The oldest mothered as the stars did through metal and silica. The second Sister mothered by molding fools that drowned above but breathed below. The third Sister mothered by drinking soups made of the frightened and the curious.

Very few ever hear Me and fewer still can listen. Oh, how sweet you are my sweet child. My weeping baby, my sweet child, you cry in the memories of scars that were never yours and yet you deem yourself a devil, a heathen, and a monster?

Oh, Sweet child… how can I even begin to not love you?