Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος, καὶ ὁ λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν θεόν, καὶ θεός ἦν ὁ λόγος.
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, ever glorious, burning in its descent, stolen from the mountaintop—
The Word, which was alive; that 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—rise 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, Бог, θεός, 神
In the beginning We were. We were with the One, the Only, spoken with the Unity of It. And It was Good. The Word was good, the Word was Good; the Word was love, the Word was Love; the Word was. And It is.
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. And Good remained with God, and Man with Evil. So it came with The 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.
We are the Word. We are the beginning. Let there be light, the light of men.
And the Word had rhythm. He spoke, and 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 . The Division, from the Darkness, visible, to the invisible Light: let there be, Let there be, let There be, let there Be.
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. And 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.
The Word was with! was with Him, the Only, the One, the Unity. And the Word was God until he rose and made the Light and divided the darkness and made the Day and the Night and Heaven and the Earth and the ocean and the land and the grass and the tree and the Sun and the stars and the fish and the bird and the insect and the cattle and in His image Man and Woman—and only then, did the Word become Good.
So the Word was Good. Shining, glowing in the shadows, in the raptured, ruptured crevice between Light and Darkness, under the shade of Olympus.
“I am, therefore It Is.”
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, that pollute the sky and shield Man’s eyes from the beauty of the Universe, which He created for the Eye’s feast so that all men would know of His greatness, and the power of the Word: “Let there Be light.” But the wires and the electrons still coursed through the copper and made the cities shine and let the restless minds evade sleep and Sleep; staring deep into men’s souls, photons seizing and shaking and saying, “You are, you are,” and “Build now, a City upon a Hill.” And Man did, crafting great works of technology and architecture, wiring the World together into one great tower of power, Earthly paradise.
And God saw this and came down with His Wrath, and confounded Man from his Creation, from His creation, confusing them so that they would not understand each other’s speech, scattering them across the World. But in His Work, Man then could not understand the Word.
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.
Alas, poor Woman! The missing Goddess. Cruel He, who spoke but spoke with the Word that was only half the World. Speak now, Goddess! Your Word shall complete Us. Your Word will make this World One again. Your Word shall save Us from our fallen Grace, from the distant Love of our lost Father—Mother’s love, only you can save us now.
In the beginning were two Words, of which one was cast into silence. The other is the reverberation beneath the ground we stand, in the air we breathe, the flesh we love. But the one that never spoke—that Word is in our soul, wrenching its way out. That Word which has no sound, but the breath that gives us Hope.
Ah...oh...ah...[the sound of air passing through your face]
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.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God. May He speak again, of lost Glory, and lost chances. 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.
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