THE SONG OF CREATION

Time began when I allowed it to,
and before Time there was nothing
but the grace and quiet dignity
of my omnipresent beard.

Before Time there was nothing, and I
was the master of it all – Ruler Supreme
of that still and silent place they call Void
where nothing is born, and nothing dies.

What manner of beast or wispy devil, then
induced me to speak those fateful words,
I’ll never know, ladies and gentlemen–
but suffice it to say that I rue that day
when sound was born, and silence died.

Time awoke to my call and promptly
commenced its murderous charge.
Darkness gave way to Light;
each moment arose from the ashes
of the former, and so it went,
their bloody succession giving tune
to these hallowed acts of mine.

And this is the secret of secrets
that lies at the holy heart of Creation:
Where nothing is born nothing dies
but nothing is born without something dying-
Light extinguishes Darkness, and Form emerges
from the ripped innards of Void – To create
is to kill and to kill, create; thus did I
weave my world in violent symmetry.
For I am the alpha and I am the omega
and in my being death and life
are intertwined.

In Eden shoots burst forth from the soil and became forests,
Beasts rose from the sea and multiplied, conquering land.
The beasts fed on the forest and the forest fed on Light;
Then came Man, the scum of my loins-
he who I made in my own image-
he hungered for it all.

Men everywhere
bury their fathers
and take his place
because nothing is born
without something dying-
and so it goes with me as well.
In the beginning there was nothing
but everything was born and nothing died.

 

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