Monday, July 6, 2015

night begets fire

Before Watching Squirrel sold his secrets to men, before Frog King crawled wetly forth on Land, before the Sun gave birth to the Moon, before even the Stars would wink their cold distant eyes, there was Blanketing Night. She was broad, black, and alone.

In the beginning, Blanketing Night filled all lightless corners; her reach touched upon all points and places.

She was all quiet things and quiet were all things.

Passed then countless silent eons, she tired of the emptiness she filled. Blanketing Night wished to flee. She fled far from herself.

Yet, she was all places. No matter which way she turned, she broke upon herself like black ocean waves. In utter despair she stormed ahead, brushing through and past herself, again and again.

Finally, the heat of her mad dashing sparked fierce; Hungry Fire leapt unto the empty night. He wished to eat, but there was naught, save Night and Void.

So then did the two conspire, and thus was born the World.

Fire yet gnaws at the roots.
Night still touches all places,
but now must move away.
For with the World and Ages,
came to the Void the day.

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