A Voice, Creating

In the beginning
Was voice,
The spoken word,
Speaking present
Into void.
An unimaginable
Series of let there be.
And he said,
And he said let
Six times,
Then he saw.
Voice rested, a
Repose from creation.

A voice,
Slight echo,
Speaks in rhyme or free,
Pale reflection
Of the power
Of its maker.

Slight, dim echo,
Pale reflection,
Tongued memory
Of creation,
Of sacrifice,
Of redemption.

Only a small voice,
Muted sound,
Tiny reminder
Of mountains erupting,
Seas forming and
Churning,
New sun blinding,
Animals galloping,
Trees and plants
Exploding in verdancy,
Silver brilliance of stars inspiring,
All life teeming,
Seething.

Voice
Creating only
A voice,
A voice
To make the
Stones sing.