In the beginning, there was a breath,
a whisper on the sea of tendrils,
and She knew it would be good.
With Her mouth She blew warmth
into the Earth, the light from the dome
of the sky drizzled along the Earth’s back,
lined with creases and hollows and smoothness.
The Earth rose up in rebellion, clasped
Her arms at Her side and arched
into Her formless void. She would not
punish the Earth for the transgression.
She calmed the waters of the churning
Earth and gathered the loam between
Her hands and separated heaven
from hell. The Earth quaked with the violence
and Her authority and then subsided.
As She looked upon Her stony creation,
She saw that it was good and
declared the moment blessed, with light
showering from the firmament, She rested.