Creation

In the dark room she sits, covered from feet to head in layers seven of veils black, immersed in the darkness utter, silence absolute, unable to make mutter.

In repose she lies, seven veils of night, drapery cascades, impenetrable, falls in ripples and folds, pattern and rythm imperceptible, within her, without her, all alone room of endless expanse, confined securely, ever open, eternally

An ice cool voice penetrates...

An icicle, vision of unicorn, disturbs her slumber.

"Dream"

Says the young ice maiden.


"Dream, of spiders black scurrying around in every corner crack, weaving webs endlessly, amidst cool cavernous depths, ever unseen in the stillness they scheme..."

Involuntary the veiled One shudders, twitches...the patter of tiny feet.

"Dream", says the ice maiden, "of dolphins sensuous weaving their destined paths through mighty Ocean swell, gloriously rising from the waters of deep"...the robes of the ancient One begin to rise and to fall.

"Dream", says the ice maiden, "of panthers dark winding their ways through mid-winter forests stark, never before entered, never before departed, dream of a Blackbird upon a branch that is started"

With her slender arm of blue azure, she describes the motion of their passing...

The robes of the musty One stir, a draught is felt, for ever the first time


From beneath the swathe of robes, a shadow of an arm reaches out into the Netherworld Domain, reaches out into the formless plane, reaches out...and nothing is ever the same.



From beneath the swathe of robes, a shadow of an arm reaches out into the Netherworld Domain, reaches out into the formless plane, reaches out...and nothing is ever the same.

The elusive waif of blue seems ever out of reach, so close yet so distant, as all pervasive as a sky as blue yet seemingly unattainable, as impossible to retain as a dream in the first rays of dawn, the torment of her gift, but even so...

The hand was thus extended, and after what may have been an eternity or the briefest of moments, the slender fingers of the ice maiden flowed into the proffered palm, the two becoming as One.

A brief moment of grasping, an eternity of clasping...a shimmering blue illusion is caught, a dream vision is now thought.

The robes of the ignored One were seemingly transformed, into a morass of scarab beetles that scrambled desperately, into a cave wall of bats that of a sudden were startled and together took flight, into a deep and dank well that was seemingly alive with writhing black tadpoles all squiggly and squirming...

A hand reaches deep into the soul well of Dreams...

Slender, lithe and supple...and of brilliant emerald green.

Re-emerging, the hand so verdantly glowing, opens to reveal a tiny cute frog, smiling so broadly, at this his first showing...who pauses to reflect upon his good fortune, then leaps off into the void...

Somewhat surprisingly, landing upon the leaf of a charmingly graceful lily of the water, that slowly floats away upon the rippling black pond, shimmering now with streaks of blue, and dappled green hue.

Two long lost sisters greeted each other for the very first time...

Sapphire and Emerald, such was life.



Together the two sisters danced together, hands clasped tightly together, spinning around the elderly One, spinning giddily around such was their exuberance...


Appearing to flow endlessly into the distance, swirling all around, embracing every direction...the very Heart of the Ocean...

They becalmed themselves somewhat, the lovely and lively sisters, activity subsided, levels to a more gentle ebbing and flowing, rythmically rising and falling...slender stems swaying in a summers breeze.


They each of them lowered down a hand to the enigmatic One that sat upon the deep dank soil, as it were...and slowly raised her upright.



"I will bring Dream" said the one sister...

"Whilst i shall bring growth" said the other...

"Which i shall bring to fruition"

Said a newcomer...

Who was dressed in a gown of flowing silk of a most charming lemon colour, which went most well with her flowing flaxen hair and sallow features that were also a most curious yellow...

The two sisters turned to face her.

Blue stems slowly emerged from beneath the Underworld, pushing ever upward whilst also ever outward, transforming into green tendrils and shooting forth into broad leaves, growing ever more profusely in joyous abandon, such that a vast expanse of lush green vegetation spread forth all around for as far as the eye could see...


And whatever green shoot was touched by the hand of the fair maid of yellow, produced sparkling grains of wholesome goodness, such that the fields glistened in her wake, alive and vibrant as if laced with fairie lights or a playful assemblage of myriad spirits of mischief and mirth...


Youthful slender limbs besporting themselves in all directions, joyful amusement, an increase in bemusement, from the Gravitas One.

A nebulous chiffon dress of pure sky blue adorned the elder sister whilst a wonderful creation of grass green velvet graced the nimble form of the younger sister...the hair of the two seemed as if of length infinite, as it unfolded and cascaded all behind them.

The fruits of the land were thirteen in number and thirteen in type, though each was quite similar quite differant when ripe.

Across the vast expanse of the veldt they shimmered, of a sudden appearing, yet also of a sudden, disappearing...

Lights extinguished, as if swallowed into the voluminous belly of a whale, swirling shoals swallowed whole within the Ocean body...

Swirls and swells, rythms and patterns forming, describing arcs, sensuous curvaceous flow, deep underwater currents, tide induced breeze.

Four figures stood upon the Cardinal Points, hand in hand, circle describing, birth inducing, centre creating.


From the North to the East from the South to the West and the return from thence...mote it be



There it is then, he was born of four wacky Mothers in a sodden field generally considered to have been nowhere in particular...though ever Blessed.

Of course now none of this is what one would call 'true', especially as he hadn't yet created the concept of 'truth', but still the tales persist, scandalous stories of humble beginings and such rustic rumours, and there is a charm to such.


But then who can remember their own conception and who can recall the time spent in darkness before the light inception.


Distant days of childhood, innocnet experiments, the joy of discovery...wandering as an aimless spirit throughout the realm, across the fields of green and gold, standing upon the shoreline and gazing and marvelling at the mighty expanse of Ocean...wondering...thinking of beyond.


Intriguing well rounded pebbles , perusing, casting forth...

Causing ripples


Secrets that were learnt, in gathering the seeds of the field, in sowing and in planting, then gathering in the harvest.


In searching out the fish of the Ocean and catching them in one's net, in planting and in grafting the Sacred Vine, the grove of Olives, all these were naturally self taught.

There was a day that somehow unavoidibly came when he had reached maturity and was strong and vital, well proportioned and in the best of health, through the sustenance of the fields and the rich bounty of the seas.


The Vines he had planted as a youth were now fully grown and producing an excellant crop of grapes from which he would produce the finest of wines.

In a robe of saffron he ground the grain to make the bread...with sweeping circular motion the stone of starry granite ground all grain before it...as the wheel turned faster and faster heat began to rise from the grindstone, the air turned orange in hue with the tiny dust particles of grain that filled, floated, and tremulously hovered within it.

As he worked at the grindstone he quenched his thirst with cupfulls of wine, the harder he worked then the more he did drink, becoming invigorated and ecsatic as the wine took effect, he turned the grindstone ever faster such that it began to glow bright red.

A task moving toward completion, all gathered grain ground, all wine drunk...of a sudden One was seized of a terrible pain and stress, fell headlong to the brightly glowing stone, the last thing to remember, four figures emerging from the shadows to take up the fallen torso...

A mighty explosion, a dazzling white light, a stone that caused the water to burn, a purple stain upon the ground.


Shattered fragments within the darkness, the night before that never happened, hopefully...mercifull sweet gloom, purple haze, deathly quiet.


Upon a plateau a ring of standing stones, rugged, shattered and forboding within a deep mist.

Within the circle a young man, Son of a Widow, lean, yet strong and of a determined countenance, eyes of electrifying blue, long dark hair intermingle with fiery red.

The young man is swathed in a black cloak interwoven with a pattern of green and blue, wears upon his chest a breastplate of iron, a shield of intricately carved wood is by his side, a mighty sword of shimmering steel is in his hand.

Within the circle the underlying atmosphere of lonliness was countered by a deep instinctive sense of togetherness, of Oneness with the sodden ground upon which he knelt, with the damp mist that swirled between the standing stones, with the very rocks themselves which seemed desirous of imparting some tale of import.


All around the plateuau rose mighty peaks magnificent in aspect, yet uninviting in prospect, shrouded, clouded, light played upon their faces in an ever shifting drama of revelation, exposing facets, suggesting spaces.

Rain began to fall ever heavier, he wrapped his cloak tightly around himself, raised himself to his full, considerable, height, then turned to face Southward...through the fog of his own breath he catched a glimpse of the land beyond, a land of promise, that revealed itself between twin peaks, percieved a valley of green, a vision of blue water...he headed off in that direction.


Down the shattered ravines he clambered, following the trace of water, that whilst starting of as a trickle amidst the rugged shards of granite, laced with rusty deposits of iron and quartz, increasingly began to develop into a mighty cascading torrent, flowing quickly and swirling rapidly beneath awe inspiring waterfalls as deep dark pools



As he descended the air grew warmer, moss covered the rocks and tiny plants grew within the cracks and crevices, spectral trees began to appear either side of the valley sides, which grew ever more pleasant in appearance, holding long grass and flowers of the meadow.

He entered onto a broad idylic palin of soft lush pasture, interspersed with flower of all colour glistening jewell like much covered in dew, and insect of all manner did creep and crawl upon all thing and about all direction.

He glimpsed a tiny mouse grain scavenging among the grasses, which charmed by he followed, into a verdant glade of arborial mystique, a wonderland of broad leaved canopic delight, through which rays of the Heavens shone down so clear and so bright...ever deeper he penetrated this realm of enchantment.

Down from the branches of an ancient oak a black cat did of a sudden leap, causing the mouse to scurry most quickly away.

With feline poise she confidently approached the young man, and in a most friendly fashion rubbed herself against his somewhat tired legs, then with a purr she made turn, and headed off down a woodland path, inviting, somehow, the young man to follow, which he did.



The daintily measured steps of the cat led toward a walled enclosure some short distance furthur on, a concealed garden within the forest, whose ancient stone walls were of considerable height, all overgrown with ivy and covered with moss and lichen.

At the ornate gilded gates to the garden stood a large white dog who was ever on guard, carefully observing the approach of the young man, and the cat, who he greeted with a loudly agitated barking display, that caused the black cat to hurry quickly away...

The white dog began to change his attitude, becalming himself, and appearing ever more friendly and wanting to play...the man pushed forward the heavy gilded gate, that though creaky and stubborn most surely gave way, such that he made his entrance into the garden and headed off down its long broad aisle with dog at side.


The garden was well maintained with carefully manicured lawns and path, down the side of which grew all manner of exotic trees and shrubs that had the most splendid and luxuriant foliage, that also proudly displayed myriad forms of dazzling bloom and inviting fruit in a riotous dsiplay of colour and form.


At the centre of the garden the young man entered into an open area of great formal beauty and graceful design, which contained within a pond of rectangular proportions, upon whose tranquil waters lillies gently floated, frogs playfully hopped, dragonflies hovered, swans serenly glided...

By the side of the pond upon the stone embankment sat a young maiden, possibly somewhat forlorn in demeanour, a delicate pale beauty, with black hair streaked copper, with brown eyes shaded green, with soft lips coloured red, that appeared in a dream...she wore a long dress of white delicate lace, which was decorated with ribbons of gold, that didn't seem out of place.

In this the twilight hour between dusk and dawn, as misty vapours eminated from the waters, she was silently lighting candles with a delicate flaming taper she held in her hand, around which fireflies shimmered, and bees buzzed around...


The candles she had lit already had been placed all around the pond, such that it took on a most magical and mysterious appearance...
"What are you doing here?"

Asked the young man, to which she made hauntingly soft reply...

"Wating for the Sun...that will surely come"



She looked up at him and gave a smile of charming innocence yet beguiling beauty...

"Why do you light all these candles by the side of this pond?"

Asked the young man, intrigued by her activities...

"I have been giving the stars names throughout this long night, and for each of them a candle i did solemnly light...will you help me?...for all most be counted before break of day, and there are so many of them, though how many i cannot say"


"I have nothing else i should be doing"

Taking up a candle, the young man held it toward the taper, and set the wick aflame, holding steady the hand of the torch bearing dame...his candle ablaze, he lowered it down onto a lilly leaf by the edge of the pool, then gently pushed this out toward the centre.

a reply to: Kantzveldt

This is a bump.

This is not a comment, just a bump so more people may read it.

A comment would be like a hastily scrawled footnote from the banal at the bottom of a substantial work of beauty.

a reply to: pthena

It surprised me the other day to read in Rig Veda verse i hadn't read previously, these thoughts;

Who verily knows and who can here declare it, whence it was born and whence comes this creation?

The Gods are later than this world's production. who knows then whence it first came into being?

He, the first origin of this creation, whether he formed it all or did not form it, whose eye controls this world in highest heaven, he verily knows it, or perhaps he knows not.

Rig Veda-Creation Hymn

The Rishi and Rshikäs had expressed my own consideration, and were therefore right...

But then who can remember their own conception and who can recall the time spent in darkness before the light inception.