In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word—was.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word fell from the sky—the Fall, glorious,

burning in its descent, stolen from the mountaintop—

The Word was alive, gave light—life—eternity—energy—

In the beginning was the Word, muttered under His breath, humming, droning:

“Aummm, Auummm, Aaaummm, Aumm.”

Yes.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word pulsed with the ocean waves, vibrated with the sound of the Great Sun, which cast warmth upon the Earth and made the plants and the animals rise, rise, and proliferate—yes—among the rocks and the valleys and the depths of the seas…

In the beginning—in principio erat Verbum et Verbum erat apud Deum et Deus erat Verbum.

Deus, Dios, Dieu, Gott,

The beginning was with God, and He was Good, like all things. Then, there was Light; the division: Man from God, Man from Woman, Heaven from Hell, Eden from Earth, Good from Evil. Good remained with God and Man with Evil. So it came with Knowledge.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was—say it—Deus. ex machina.

The light from our mechanized grids, the Word from the Machine:

And the word was 01000111 01101111 01100100.

And  the  Word  had  rhythm.  He  spoke.  The  World  obeyed.  The  Word,

one  light  away  from  the  World,  a  single  line:  la  la  la  le  le  li

li lo lo lo lo lu lu lu lu l l l .

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word breathed the air of the Spirit of God, contained within it the soul of Man, the soul of every Man, of the sole Man. The air was crisp and fresh and Good. The wind blew across and planted the Seed of every Man into the ground, the ground he would toil by the sweat of his brow to live, to live; to breathe, to sin, after the Fall in which Man laid his mouth upon that which was not the Word.

So the Word was Good. Shining, glowing in the shadows, in the raptured crevice between Light and Darkness, under the shade of Olympus.

And as Day and Night blend and spill over the edges of the horizon, may the Word command attention, and set the globe back in order, and shut off all light that is not His. But the wires and electrons still course through the copper and make the cities shine and let the restless minds evade sleep, staring deep into men’s souls, saying, “You are, you are,” and “Build now, a City upon a Hill.” So Man did, crafting great works of technology and architecture, wiring the World together into one great power, Earthly paradise.

In the beginning was the Word. It hung there, echoing through the abyss, longing for something to latch on to. And It found a great tree, Yggdrasil. From there, through fire and ice, did the Word become the World, and the good became the Good became God.

The Word decays, and echoes, lost easily in the open World, but resonating madly in valleys and canyons, distorted by eons of haunted replies and warped walls. New words must arise, as the old Word slowly dies out with the Wind.

The Word is His rope which pulls Us out, the sound which wanders down to Us in search of lost souls, if We should listen—listen.

Beyond the silence, beyond the wishing ear:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God