I am convinced that our poor Earth has suffered far greater calamities than even the oracles of science and religion have envisioned. Those disasters mentioned have been clouded by the dronings of unwavering belief and the plodding of numb logic. Sadly, it seems the way of meager human minds to cope with a terrible reality in comfortable disbelief.
In truth, our poor world was destroyed many times — her globe engulfed by fires from the hearts of galaxies or vomited from our own sun. Her continents overwashed by waves so vast they touched the clouds. Her precious creatures destroyed in episode after episode of cosmic violence.
Decimated and terribly diminished, the survivors made love and brought life anew. Is it not an awesome thing to know that these epic heroes are our very ancestors? That we arose from a thousand calamities — each great enough to be a world killer?
It is for this reason and for the love act that brings each new life that I write fantasy. For fact is too small to contain the whole truth of our spirit. The very summation of all life on earth is made real in us. The lessons of our ancestors live on in our very blood and bones.
So here’s to the memory of what has passed and to the inevitable challenge. Yes, these worlds will be destroyed again. Yet in each of you I see the strength and spirit to overcome any disaster and the hope to bring life even to the dimmest specks of night.