Happy birthday to the world!
Like a pencil poised for calculation, a key not yet turned in the twitchy ignition, so was the curved throat of God in the nothing before the (ready, so ready) beginning. Then: Black letters proclaimed onto the white parchment universe. Then: Big Bang (call it what you will)— Water swirling away from water and sapphire sky pouring out. Greater lights and lesser, crackling meteors & stars— Sprouting seeds with their tasty fruit, towering trees with their riddles— Twirling serpents & creepers of the soil; all the swarming, leaping, winged things— And last to come, dusty youngsters made in the image (haploid, diploid, twin & twin)— Each called into itself by that voice. That voice. Insistent, unfurling— The deafening pulse of now. So good.