The primordial moment had come to pass, to form a divine paradox.
There was nothing called the night or day,
Nor the forces that have their way,
Neither the space for matter to rest; to move or stay at anyone's behest.
Engulfed in vast waters it laid, where there was no "deathlessness" or death
Of such an ocean, who can tell? how many fathoms was its depth?
To look over this no Gods were there, for there were no heavens from which to stare
What was that entity that held this all? how could it, upon itself, bear?
Answer to this, none can tell.
And it so happened, that a desire rose,
at an instance, in "its" mind.
An infinitesimal seed of creation,
germinating for everything to bind.
When this happened? How this happened?
Who can even fathom or tell?
Not us, not god nor he himself knows
As to where the answer dwells.