The fruits of an obsidian slap, a rippling nudge.
Meant only to tell her son that he was indeed in
her arms. That he was not alone.
Little did she know.
To him she was anything but a mother, anything but
comforting, anything but safe.
She was the complete opposite from him and
not in an eternity would he ever recognize her.
So thus came the obsidian sharp rippling slap from that dark
motherly hand.
It indeed stopped the incessant roaming.
It also instead for comfort
brought more doubt.
Instead for company
Brought more fear.
And with it a drop.
From the bottomless gloomy ocean
In the depths of Absu
Prism
The first rainbow
Lighting up all existence
Which then was nothing but
the abyss
the first flash of light
a tender blue watery light
immediately followed by
a warm fiery orange light
instantaneously yielding
a cool and sharp ever so expanding airy light
followed by a rapid burst
of a dim more physical light
the blackness became rainbow
stroboscopic chaos ensued
finally the first self could see
finally the first self felt safe
finally there was light in the dark
On Gods and Myths 