Mag 133 — Beings of Light

Four Beings of Light descended into the lush Pearl River Valley from their mountain to experience a summer night. Before long the snows would come and they would be frozen in their high altitude cave, frozen in the exact position they were in when the annual icy winds came. This had been their species' snowga practice for eons: select one perfect night to try out poses in the moonlight.

These blue Beings of Light were sensitive about their appearance, comparing themselves with human inhabitants of the Pearl River Valley region and finding themselves lacking in contour and diversity. Each looked much like the other with their similar baldness, vacant eyes, bright red lips forever pursed as if dreaming of a kiss. They all had shapeless trunks and pillowy limbs and looked like giant babies wandering in dreamland dressed in soft pajamas with gloves and booties and moonbeams sewn in.

The Beings of Light liked to think of themselves as serene. Truth was they had very little personality and, aside from naturally shining from within, they were a bit dull. They bored one another. They were bored with themselves. None ever varied their snowga practice much at all, seeming always to strike poses with sensibilities such as: It is what it is! —or Dude! —or Whatever!

On this summer night in the moonlight, with the Pearl River flowing in expressive tributaries around their feet, before they froze in their snow cave — and with their vacant eyes never truly seeing because they expected what was to be seen would never change — would the Beings of Light miss a change most profound?

One of them had developed the print of a hand on the lower trunk area, between its shapeless pillowy legs. This signified the beginning of a life-changing, planet-saving gift if its evolution was only recognized. It needed lushness and light to develop in summer, snow and ice for preservation in winter. For complete balance among the Beings of Light and humans, river valleys and glaciers, the seasons and all beings who relied upon the seasons, the Beings of Light needed to truly see what was happening to their species. And they could not care about their species alone because if they did not share this gift with other species nothing would matter at all. And they did not have much time.

Written for The Mag: Mag 133 that inspired with the above photo prompt

(Summer Night, 1913, by Albert Bloch).

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