Genesis Poem by Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken

In the beginning,
there was neither sound nor silence,
only the pulse of something waiting to become.

A breath held,
before the first exhale,
the weight of possibility
pressed against the edge of nothing.

Light did not burst forth--
it unfolded,
slow as thought,
soft as the idea of warmth.

The darkness did not dissapear,
it simply made room,
a canvas stretched wide enough
for both shadow and flame.

And from that meeting--
of what was and what could be--
the world began,
not with certainty,
but with a question
spoken into the vastness:
What if?