In the Beginning
In the beginning, the work was without form,
and Wisdom was with God and
Wisdom inspired God and the Void
grew and separated into letters & blocks.
The Word was still without form.
The letters mutated and shape-shifted.
They debated their form, and still they
shape-shifted, refusing to be bound
to one understanding, remaining as fluid
as Creation, evolving from Primordial
Bang, forming and reforming. Letters
grew too massive and fell
into black holes, swirling about into
galaxies, spiral & elliptical, structured &
diffused. Writers, poets, work makers & word
users tried to bind them into books, &
manuscripts and found the words would not
be still, they morphed and changed—order
size, shape. They looked upon the blank page,
terrified for it was void and without form.
The Face of the Deep beckoned, pulling
some under, some to dive deep and resurface
with raw ore they hammered into
prose & poetry which switched places when
they set down their pen, covered the typewriter,
silenced the computer. Words will not be bound
into a block, frozen into works, and Lady Wisdom
or a false, golden mirage will beckon to them,
promising truth and fantasy, who again
morph & blend and transform each other
wearing the harlequin mask that
deceives, truth pretending to be nonsense
and Truth revealed to tumble again
into tumbled blocks of sounds without
sense, falling apart the harder
the effort to edit sense out of raw
by causative agent.