myth for foxglove

The field in between the kingdoms is where the party at the beginning of the world took place. 

It was the party of one hundred thousand years, so every wave of light wanted to go. 

But one of the colors was not invited. They were forgotten? In revenge, she poisoned her gloves and decided to go anyway. The party was more magnificent than any had ever imagined. But everyone she met, she touched them with her gloves and they would soon be dead.

In this party, the planet, Altia, kissed the earth. It was the eon of summer and it lasted for decades. It was time time when the moon was born. 

But no one remembers. They were becoming soil. They were giving themselves to the water, they were the beginning muck of what became us: all living creatures. Just because one color was not invited. If we listen closely to our hearts closely, will remember the greatest party in creation. 

The color fled. Except for the purple on the lips of the people who were dying, and becoming soil and water and memories. Purple will be here even when we face our fears. 

Maybe you’ve dreamed in this color.

The queen of purple she lives in a field and wears tule and sequins that shine wildly. You’ll get confused if you see them. 

If you see a fox, whisper the words that are in the muck of your heart, weighing it down. The fox will put the words on like gloves and take it to that field and she’ll put it on a tall stem with the rest of the fox gloves. Once a month, when the moon is crescent, it will cry for you when it hears your story or laugh for you, or sigh. You’ll know how to feel then.