Out of time, there were Two
only One and One and blue
but a bucket of liquid indigo
two paddlers moving in a row

boat and oar a compass held
where do we go, the One yelled?
and on the horizon they pointed
without purpose and disappointed

they moved and mapped
turning in a circle trapped
by the limit of all nothing
without a dream of any thing

till did down One hand He reach
into the bottom He felt sand
what is time without a beach
a place he and She could pull land

around and around and around
they scooped the sand into mound
the blue did drip and sink
back into water bluest ink

but the sand, oh, it did stand
grains upon grains, it was grand
as their longing and hanker
in a boat found anchor

upon the new unmoving shore
disembarked she came … then Two,
threw down both back and oar
felt a promise present now true

north and west, south and east
feet digging and drinking the feast
their arms did rest, their legs did test
they ran in circles did their best

seeking both beginning and end
faster and faster it did bend
till spent and tired they stopped —
knowing oars for feet they had swapped

looking back they could only plea
there was only blue, only sea
looking above they saw up nothing
from a line into empty … nothing.

So She grabbed at the sand
and He scooped at the sea
they threw them together
they coated air for something to see

then they pulled at the blue
at the sky they had threw
they clamoured for just a sight
they hungered for direction’s light

She scraped and clawed One and One
realized the sky could not be undone
ripping rending the fabric heaven
claustrophobia could only lessen

but penetrating holes there arose
through the tatters and shadows
the East gave birth to the stars
and through a Western hole all yours

He reached and grasped inferno’s fire
pulled it through to that now done
they cried with tears they require
a sea, the land, heaven stairs to sun.

∞

Submitted as part of “National Poetry Writing Month – 2017” (#NaPoWriMo2017). Today’s prompt: write a poem that recounts a creation myth. It doesn’t have to be an existing creation myth, or even recount how all of creation came to be. It could be, for example, your own take on the creation of ball-point pens, or the discovery of knitting. Your myth can be as big or small as you would like, as serious or silly as you make it.