The Creation

book 1
Mauricio Otero
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(Second Phase: After-God-zero)




To Vicente Huidobro


And to my parents...without whom the "creation" would not have been possible...


Pintura de Omar GaticaIn the beginning of the beginning,

was the void,

was it the void?

No, the unbearable,

the vertigo, no!...

It has been the fullness,

in the beginning;

fullness, has it been?

No satisfied completion,

never, no!

I'm going to tell you,

that without even being,

Pintura de Isabel Aranda *Yto*I saw a space of nothing

and of everything


in love with each other;

the nothing and the everything were the same

mixed up through space-time...

In a wedding bed of matter and anti-matter

that whispered its rejection;

the discourse of energy had to be listened to;

the mega-atom kissing its child,

the micro-Universe,

and the perpetual love of the cycle.

They taught me

to see my fingerprints

and to discover that they are galaxies

Right then, I leapt for joy!

Cosmic reality allowed me to see

its secrets.

The interminable, eternal changing,

and even seeing ideas that are

"shooting stars":

"ovule ships, changed

by hunted sperm

into stars of their own light"

But I had a dream

before my dream.

Metaphysical garlands adorned

the wide ways of the cosmos,

and the sighs of things

wanted to touch the dawn.

Pintura de Omar GaticaTime, still eyeless,

rose and lowered, downwards

and upwards;

but, strangely,

all was made since forever,

the crown of light of the infinigenesis.

The creation always throbbed,

it was eternally facing clarity,

raising prophetic arms to greet


each one of its future stellar speeches

would bathe the atmosphere in unveiled dreams.

When centuries of centuries of centuries had passed,

the beings, kneeling in emotion,

would wait for the message,

while every piece of ruined heaven

fell uselessly onto reason.

The nothing, alone and sad, embraced

its nothing and everything was given, because

everything was forever;

it was the shivering of faraway stars

which would play the trumpets of goodbye.

Each perfect centimetre of universal creation

danced with emotion, soaked in the celestial smile.

All breath like curtains covered the wedding bed

in fantasy: and fantasy, clutching my future

non-existent thought, cried but

Pintura de Isabel Aranda *Yto*it cried in silence...

In time to come I let imagination overflow,

but, naked before the creativity of the cosmos,

I fell silent, I fell silent.

In the cosmographic love

there was a mundinovi

of the cosmogeny of the cosmogony,

it is the declaration of the principle

of the infinite lover...

He saw her, naked, seated

with her legs open

her silken love barely covered,

playing a quasar violin.

I saw how she undressed with sighs

her celestial body

and how burning blue lactation gushed

from her swollen breasts

and from her sex in the midst of the universes

all the shivering sidereal emotion was fashioned.

And it was then

that the Cosmos, the whole rhythm

of the perpetual succession of galactic doctrines,

broke her hymen by cosmogenesis

and amongst the voyaging ova that

were changing into stars of their own light

and sperm that would become shooting stars,

gave her all the love of Love, like the

mega heart that produces gravity,

that flirts with spatial relativity, and

thus everything was given

without beginning and without end...

Already now you can see in his beginnings

smiling stars passing

through the paths of all the firmaments

of the cosmos.

Contemplate his melancholy;

you'll see how his eyes shed

slow luminous tears.

The infiniteheat dust/seed

Pintura digital de Isabel Aranda *Yto*is what seems to be frozen souls;

but it is he alone who knows its secrets;

go to the stars, orbiting, to ask them

if the spirit exists...

Don't let yourself

go without knowing first

that you must live above in the distant Earth

to go down to heaven early.

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