The Creation

book 1
Mauricio Otero
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Translated by Thomas Hoy




The idea of writing about Creation or Cosmogony arose and began to ring in my head, in one of those mornings of youthful philosophy, in the year 1980, in Santiago, in a long conversation with a friend, Walter Huber, who I always remember for his unstoppable idealism. (They were very hard times).

Truly, everything opened up that night, on a balcony in the middle of the city, in spring, in the Paseo Tenderini - where I was living while studying advertising. It was based on the reading of an anthropological note, namely: "Evolutionist and Spiritualist Anthropology in Teilhard de Chardin: The Vision of the World or Teilhardian Cosmovision". (Fortunately, I've kept this dusty note).

But prior to this, I remember having been influenced by the infinite and obsessed by a fear of the void (1974). Then, in 1984, I was overcome by a "spatial attack" and out of this there emerged, this time as poems, the work that the reader has in his hands. But it wasn't the definitive manuscript. I was reading astronomy, astrophysics and gathering information on the latest and on classic theories of the creation of the universe (if it was formed at ONE time, given that we were already aware of its evolution). Reading Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time was a revelation. But I would have to read books such as Worlds and Antiworlds: Matter in Cosmology, by Hannes Alfvén, to find the meaning of this work.

On the other hand, my studies in Dialectical Materialism had already shaped me and left a profound impression. Yes, I was a classic atheist; but studying the cosmos and its mysteries, I came to "feel" the presence of God; but it's not a belief in a personal God, talking like Joyce, but rather a pantheistic identification with "reality"... There was (and there is) a "Something" always watching me... Perhaps there might be another influence (which made my work). Or my own soul watching me from outside myself and whistling an old song.

To sum up, I need to say finally that my vision of the world, in this work, is diametrically opposed to my first work, Testimony (of the Man), published in 1989-90, a work in which I vomit up my own soul in pieces. This second volume, Poem of the Creation, rescues my spirit and fits into my writing program.

Now, the reader will find a searching and resounding vision of God in the Cosmos and of one type of really distinct human being, more honest and of more consequence than those who walk on planet Earth these days.

(The idea of circularity and of altered times are to the point.)


(First Phase)




Pintura de Omar GaticaThe right wing of God shivers

in the void;

the left flutters fine music:

from one to the other they fill with nothing and

harmonious breathing.

Remembering the future,

the past

not coming,

the imagination of God expanded


in the most astral, spreading out

and returning to become part of so many

celestial latitudes.

He went about

dusting brilliant stars

through the empty void;

he went about

adorning the silence

with his singing glance:

it was his dream-reality

like bubbles of blue ice

that explode on awakening.

Pintura digital de Isabel Aranda *Yto*

All symmetry and its sums

from all the opened legs

of his fertilized Goddesses

from which liquid galaxies continue to emerge,

that become present in a time without time.

It was the Universe that dropped

on the head of its Maker

it shattered his Soul;

the big bang was his first disintegrating


from thenceforth nothing can stop equality

becoming light.

The zero suddenly looked at God

he saw one thing

and then another

and another

and still another:

the zero thought that he was the centre,

but when he looked at himself

he understood that God was the absolute


the king of nothing,

the atheist -

shivering the ecstatic shiver

of immortality.

Pintura de Isabel Aranda *Yto*

The zero spat at God

at the same time

as the Creator spat at the zero.

After lifting up the soul of the nothing

the infinite came

distilling the indigo outside the metagalaxy.

As if crying from joy

the mortality of two times:

what was and what will be.

And the galaxies travelling as in a dream

of pure truth.

The Supreme Being hallucinated

and then Imagined himself to himself

and out-thought all imagination itself.

The God of God

astonished his Creator.

Because He said this:

Creation was an accident;

a mistake



calculation; a geometrical abstraction

on one of his lonely flights.

What was God doing within the nothing?

Pintura de Claudia Collao




did he entertain himself watching his dreams;

but the VOID came! and it seemed to him

that he no longer existed;

desperate! he twirled the top hat,

the imaginary zero, and then

his mind burst with emotion:

I saw (without seeing)

how the unstoppable desire

to perpetuate himself

poured from his amphora

of light

he had already changed his hands

into air, and breathing breaths, like pen pricks,

he built atomic worlds,

and in the contraction, he himself expanded:

because God was on the other side of the spatial


and he stretched and dissolved blue dreams

that gushed warm spirits.

Ah, yes it was

the n o t h i n g

how did the magician twirl the top hat?

but you can still see him, you can still feel him

sleeping in the bed of the infinite

with his head sunk in the zero.

An unconscious genius

a mad genius of the nothing

who makes the infinite shine or pale

breaking and sealing the hymens of cosmogonic


Yes; Cosmogonist of God


who took from nothing


Pintura de Lupe Pareja

God is to blame

for all

the infinite,

for its contradictory

mix of pleasure-pain

fashioning the grapes of the



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