The Maker


 * There was no word
 * For heaven or for earth, for sea or sky.
 * All that existed was silence.
 * Then the Voice of the Maker rang out,
 * The first Word,
 * And His Word became all that might be:
 * Dream and idea, hope and fear,
 * Endless possibilities.
 * And from it made his firstborn.
 * And he said to them:
 * In My image I forge you,
 * To you I give dominion
 * Over all that exists.
 * By your will
 * May all things be done.


 * Then in the center of heaven
 * He called forth
 * A city with towers of gold,
 * streets with music for cobblestones,
 * And banners which flew without wind.
 * There, He dwelled, waiting
 * To see the wonders
 * His children would create.


 * The children of the Maker gathered
 * Before his golden throne
 * And sang hymns of praise unending.
 * But their songs
 * Were the songs of the cobblestones.
 * They shone with the golden light
 * Reflected from the Maker's throne.
 * They held forth the banners
 * That flew on their own.


 * And the Voice of the Maker shook the Face
 * Saying: In My image I have wrought
 * My firstborn. You have been given dominion
 * Over all that exists. By your will
 * All things are done.
 * Yet you do nothing.
 * The realm I have given you
 * Is formless, ever-changing.


 * And He knew he had wrought amiss
 * So the Maker turned from his firstborn
 * And took from the Fade
 * A measure of its living flesh
 * And placed it apart from the Spirits, and spoke to it, saying:
 * Here, I decree
 * Opposition in all things:
 * For earth, sky
 * For winter, summer
 * For darkness, Light.
 * By My Well alone is Balance sundered
 * And the world given new life.


 * And no longer was it formless, ever-changing.
 * But held fast, immutable
 * With Words for heaven and for earth, sea and sky.
 * At last did the Maker
 * From the living world
 * Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth,
 * With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear,
 * Endless possibilities.


 * Then the Maker said:
 * To you, my second-born, I grant this gift:
 * In your heart shall burn
 * An unquenchable flame
 * All-consuming, and never satisfied.
 * From the Fade I crafted you.
 * And to the Fade you shall return
 * Each night in dreams
 * That you may always remember me.


 * And then the Maker sealed the gates
 * Of the Golden City
 * And there, He dwelled, waiting
 * To see the wonders
 * His children would create.


 * --Threnodies 5:1-8.