In the ether he existed….His being spanning from the highest dimensions to the deepest levels of existence; from the far end of forever, to the opposite end of infinity; where both ends are joined in a limitless circle.
Here he was. Here everything was.
Bombarded with so much everything, he felt he was exploding with nothing.
“I will create”
“I will do the unimaginable in a place which is pure imagination.
I will break the cycle of forever. I will stop everything from being nothing and nothing being everything.
I will create the concept of being finite.
I will create a place where stars can be born and where they too can die.”
With this thought he reached down, and clutching a handful of dimensions, he made it so.
As he pulled the new space into creation he willed the limits to this place to surround and protect it preventing the endlessness of eternity and infinity
to come crashing in.
As he blew into the space millions upon millions of tiny sparks faired up from his will.
With a sweep of consciousness over the new space he pulled balls of material together to spin around the newly made sparks.
“This will prevent them from crashing together” He thought.
As he perceived the first moves of this celestial ballet he felt joy.
“Already I have created something which has never been before. And once it is over will never be again.
The very knowledge of the end of such beauty only enhances the exquisiteness of the dance.”
Then with growing joy he began the task of moulding the rocks which moved around the sparks.
Some he turned to spinning balls of pure liquid.
Some he hardened and made the whole surface red.
Some he crushed to such a small point that they became mostly balls of beautifully spinning gas.
And then there were some where he went farther.
One he covered with dusty yellow sand then created a single band of flowing liquid around it to show the emptiness of eternity and the endlessness of infinity.
Another he placed a tiny spark of life in to sprout giant towers, covered with green and yellow flakes which would fly free on the wind and turn deepest
As he looked closer he subtly changed the last of his creations.
To the one covered in the large brown towers covered with green, he added rivers and streams; Oceans and seas.
So filled with joy at the beauty he added more complexity; Balancing each change with another so that it would all hold together.
Where he made it very hot, somewhere else he made it very cold to create a balance point in the middle.
He then created seeds, to replace what had been ended.
To aid the spreading of the seeds he wrapped many of them in fleshy coverings and created small creatures who would survive on the flesh around the seeds,
carrying the vital sparks of life off to new areas.
He gazed upon the latest of his finite creations as it spun around a small burning star and was so overcome with joy and sadness, he wept.
“My happiness is for all the beauty here, the delicate balance which defines reason in its existence.
My sadness is for the ending. As something this wonderful could only be made so from its nature of limits.
And most of all, I weep as I can never be a complete part of this creation.
I am an artist who has found perfection in a painting of which he could never be a part.
Both the gift and the curse of all the creatures here are that none of them will ever really understand that an ending is the only thing which gives the
As his tears of creation fell over the landscape of his new world, still brimming with his feelings of joy of creation and sadness of longing, they began
to form into individual shapes.
These shapes stood unsteadily on two legs. Reaching towards the sky with their two new upward limbs to reach for something, something so beautiful and so
sad but they couldn’t remember what.
All together the new forms moaned in longing and wonder at the marvels around them and the strange sadness inside them.
“my tears are the last addition to my masterpiece” He thought.
“Let these last creations, born of the tears of my soul, remain here. So that perhaps a part of the artist can live in the painting after all.
And so they have the chance to live with the knowledge of how spectacular they all are.”
Please note that this is a prose written by my dear friend, who can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org
Leishana Thoudamcha contributes for the first time to e-pao.net
The contributor can be reached at email@example.com
This article was webcasted on 02nd March 2006.