Why Seven Sisters, Not Six?

Once, there were no stories.
Were there people? Maybe.
Was there language? Maybe.

Or maybe no language
And no peoples as such
Until there were stories

To take language away
From pointing, directing,
And emoting. Stories

Said, We are the people,
The true people as such,
And here’s how we were born.

In those days, in those nights,
Those far-off days and nights,
The first storytellers

Looked around at their kin,
Then looked down at the ground
And up at the sky’s lights,

And began. Once there were
No people, only ground
And a sky without lights,

But the dark fell in love,
And the dark was lonely,
And the dark lusted, and