Song of Creation, page 4

And as the pink of my eyelids slowly darkened,
I once again raised them to see what was happening.
And the Dancer was beginning to form the light into a ball,
Separating it from the dark.

And when He had completed His task,
    He sang out in a beautiful, clear voice,
    Clearer than a thousand tinkling crystal bells.
And He sang out the name of the dark,
    And the name of the light.
        The name of the light was Day.
        The name of the dark was Night.

And the Dancer lifted His burnished arms,
    Clothed with a golden cloak,
And covered Day.
    And it was evening.
When Night became weary,
    The Dancer lowered His beautiful arms once more,
    And Day returned to rule.
And the morning announced the First Day.

Continue...

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intro	page 1	page 2	page 3	page 4
page 5	page 6	page 7	page 8	page 9
page 10	page 11	page 12	page 13	exit

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