OOC
Or rather, nothing as man understood it. The Nothing was not an absence of everything, but rather, a presence of everything that then existed. To say that there was nothing is foolishness- the Nothing composed everything that might be, that was, or that had been. Not emptiness, but presence, and a Presence that understood everything. The Presence was alone, but that did not even have a meaning. What could be greater than one when that one composes everything? Adding an infinity to an infinity is a pointless endeavor, and yet, the Presence was not content.
An emotion, contentment. Not something ascribable to nothing, an emptiness without thought or mind, and yet there it was. A metaphysical concept, a spark of cognition, which hung for an eternity of nameless time in the formless void. A hunger for something different than what was, even lacking the capacity to conceive of anything else than oblivion. This is the first mystery, the first paradox, and from it all reality stems.
For that mystery grew with the passing of time. Time, which itself did not yet exist, troubled the Nothing. Without change time was meaningless- it was only measurable by differences in the universe, but everything that was and had been already existed within the Nothing, unchanging, immutable.
And so the Nothing changed. This is the second mystery, how a something that is everything could make something else that was different from that everything. From that Nothing came Something, a part of the Everything sundered by unknowable force or will, the Something which men call the universe. The spark and the hunger grew then immeasurably, suddenly given a Something upon which to focus its attentions, a validation of its craving for existence. The Nothing gave it a name, not a name that men know, but a label, for it was no longer the Nothing. Men call it the Maker, the First Flame, the Great God. This presence looked upon the Something, which was then almost as formless and empty as the Nothing, and thence it turned its attentions.
Creation. Not the act of a potter, to turn a lump of clay into a vessel or a piece of art. Not creation as man knows it, a poor shadow and imitation of that which was the first Creation. The manifestation of ought else from the tapestry of the Something, a change in the weave, and light started in the void. The Maker first made light to separate from the dark, for its mind was new-formed then, and could ill-conceive of ought that was not antithesis to what already was. But it was enough. Enfolded in the idea of darkness, of blackness, is the question of what could not be darkness, and therein lies the concept of light.
And so the stars wheeled overhead, and the night was turned to day. For with the antithesis of emptiness, of the void, came the fullness, the world. Firm ground, and solid rock, and a counterpoint. This was the Maker's purpose, and it delighted in the seeing of the Something, and in that delight it sang. Another antithesis, to give sound to what had been an empty silent universe. In that song was not only the opposite of this silence, but as the Maker sang its song wove the fabric of what men call Earth, and beyond. Water, harmony to the melody of Fire, which was the fabric of the stars. Life, harmony to the melody of Death, which was the material of the void. Not a dissonance in the Maker's song, not discord, but complementary in their nature, two faces of the same concept given form.
Then man emerged on the face of the Earth, and looked up at the stars. This is the third mystery. A mind itself separated by unknown means from the Nothing could itself beget more minds, more concepts. The priests say that the First Flame gave of itself voluntarily, another point of antithesis, for to have all of creation with none to look upon it was opposed to its being, the counterpoint of creation being unobserved being to give it observers. Men drew breath for the first time, in their chests buried the tiniest spark of the Great God, and to them was given the Earth.
Time passed, now flowing as a river in its proper course, for change men wrought on the Earth, and as a fellow laborer the Maker walked with them. It taught them of the fields, of agriculture. It set upon the hills and dales mountains that it raised high for men to marvel at, and when they asked for implements to ease their toil it set metals in the earth that men might shape tools to their uses. It gave men the gift of life, but also the gift of death, to one day escape the river of time which rolled over their physical forms and be rejoined with the Nothing from which they were taken.
But this is not its story.
As the sons of men grew strong and wise, they multiplied upon the face of the Earth. Discord arose in the Great God's harmony, between the competing minds of men, the sons of its spirit which possessed in part their own ideas for creation, each being a part of greater whole. They could understand the act of creation dimly, as if through a clouded mirror, and each perceived his own purpose in the First Flame's creation- purposes which often brought them into conflict with their fellow man. One man went to plow a field to feed his family, another to preserve the field so he might hunt upon it, another to leave the field undisturbed so it might be a vista of beauty for generations to come. And so man quarreled, and the discord grew.
Thus, the fourth mystery, which the priests will not speak of. The Maker took another portion of its flame and gifted it to the wisest and fairest of men and women, and their power for creation grew in measure. Some it gave the gift of life, others the touch of fire, and the facets of creation were reflected in their abilities. These men their fellows came to call gods, for they were shallow reflections of the Great God, judges set to rule over creation and their fellows.
This is their story.
The day dawns bright and new- the first day of the gods. Divine power courses in the veins of the chosen few of mankind, good, evil, and those in-between now possessing a portion of the strength of the Maker. Their creator is silent to those that call out to him, and in many of the villages and towns of men the priesthoods, shamans, and wisemen are troubled by the quietness of their eternal father. What purpose the Great God has in turning over mastery of his creation to mortal men remains to be seen; all that can now be known is that the shape of the world is changed, and it will change yet farther as the new gods come into their power.
The Passages of the World