The Wild Frontier: the Mother
In the spring of her life, the Mother was the Child, and with innocent fancy and primeval wonder she birthed the stars, the moons, and the worlds to be her toys. Her childlike whimsy took a life of its own, becoming the Fae; their moods as mercurial as the newborn's own.
In the fullness of summer the Mother became the Maiden, ripe with vigour and mirth. Dancing about she gave birth to the plants and the beasts. Her footfalls made thunder and storms, the rains forming the lakes and the seas. Her stumbles made mountains and gorges, her laughter gave song to the birds, her joyous tears became the ores and gems of the earth.
When harvest came, and with it wisdom and poise, the Mother was then the Lady. She looked back at the world and the state it was in, and sought to impose order to all things. From this desire to tame the wild beasts, till the plains into fields, dig the ores from the mountains, master the lands and the seas; from all this arose men and women: to inherit this world and care for it well.
At last winter came, as it must for all things, and the Mother was the Crone, bent and blind to the world. The shadows she imagined became the spirits and demons that haunt the places where the light doesn't shine, where the matter is not.
As a last gift to creation she gave birth to herself, to start the cycle anew, and remind us that often the conclusion is not the end.