God The Creator
God The Creator - The Creator Song
Before the beginning there was silence.
There was no song. No whisper. There were no hues of blues and greens, no blends of color, no child’s laughter and no aromas, no yellow flowers, no buzzing black bumble bees, not even red sky at dawn. There was no fire and there were no rhythms. There was no work, no ice cold drink on a hot day, no flow to the center, no far and no near, for there was nothing to be measured. There was no structure, no system, no birth and no moonlight dancing on the evening tide. There was no bitter and no sweet and there was no breeze on the face. There was no texture, no form and no early morning fog. The darkness was not black for there was no color.
But there was hope. Hovering there in the silence was the One.
The One was Spirit. He was the Uncreated. He was in the silence not for one day, nor for one trillion years. The Uncreated Spirit simply was. He was in the silence of the endless deep.
The Uncreated Spirit knew his own solitude. He was without another to listen to the voice of his heart. He was without a pool to reflect his passion back into his eyes. He was without a heart friend to passionately love and be loved by. His passion drifted into eternity past. There were no echoes for there was no other spirit to listen to his magnificent solitude. The Uncreated wept for he knew he was alone.
Evil was born in the moment that the Uncreated Spirit wept. All space and time beyond him became the place of evil for it violated his passionate longing to love and be loved, to know and be known. The Uncreated Spirit passionately longed to know something rather than nothing. He felt the urge to replace nowhere with somewhere. He longed to embrace someone rather than no one. Yet the silence defied his passion. The empty silence was the first problem, the original injustice.
The Uncreated Spirit looked around and saw the emptiness. He longed to set fire to the silence. He felt the urge to unleash his breath of life into the darkness. Within the heart of the Uncreated Spirit, the passion of the Artist to paint the empty canvas around him exploded into life. The urgency to design was activated. The will to shape was launched. The tune was heard in the composer’s heart. The poetic impulse emerged. A movement of the heart to blaze the three colors of light into the darkness was advanced. It was the urge to carve life out of the dark, to blend shapes and colors, to replace formlessness with beauty.
The Spirit lifted his head and though his eyes only saw darkness his heart imagined what would be. He shouted with elation. His mind saw beauty and his heart embraced form. Imagination was ignited in his mind and his unbridled ideas gave way to dreams as they swirled and danced through his heart and transformed into vision as they moved toward his throat. Faces emerged in his dreams and he knew them and talked with them and loved them. He measured space and time. He saw it all teeming with the creative expressions of his heart.
The Uncreated Spirit smiled and then he laughed out loud. He laughed with shining moist eyes. His laughter rose like a waterfall of joy. The Uncreated Creator opened his mouth. He parted his lips. He unleashed the mighty primal shout. His words poured out from within. They advanced into the waiting silence like a mighty consuming fire. This was the ancient command that shook into existence the universe.
The Uncreated Spirit shouted with triumph as he watched this Consuming Fire, this brilliant Light, this expression of his Passion, this Word that was emerging from him. He rejoiced for he saw that what was sent out from him was overpowering the evil, dark emptiness with radiant light.
For a moment he was silent and he closed his eyes and listened to the music around him erupt with fresh and delicious life. He breathed in the tantalizing aromas of his creation. He wept again, this time with pure delight, for he saw that all he had formed was good. He knelt down and caressed one of his dazzling sprays of yellow tulips on a mountain pass. He waded into a pool of spring water, catching sight of his own reflection. Then he reached his hands down into the deep, rich, life giving black mud. He grasped a handful and lifted it to his face and breathed in the delightful smell. In exhilaration he paused to drink in the moment. His moment for friendship had come. From this dirt he would create another. Another like him. In his own image he would shape them from this glorious mud.
He reached down into the mud and played joyfully up to his elbows and knees. He smiled for he was embracing the highest and most dizzying adventure of creation. He called forth the waters and he summoned fire to burst through their bodies. Then he placed his mouth over their mouths and from his own breath he ignited life within this crowning masterpiece of his creation, his heart friends. Man and woman, he created them. They lifted their sparkling eyes. The Uncreated Spirit extended his strong hands, he wrapped his arms around them and lifted them up. His voice was warm and tender. “Come with me, my beloved friends. Walk with me. Create with me. Take my hands and share my life with me. Know that my passion is for you.”
They listened to the Creator’s joyful song and they danced to the Creator’s tune and they slept to the Creator’s lullaby.
By Paul Richardson
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