The Beginning After the End

Before there was an era,
there was a decade.
Before there was a decade,
there was a year.
Before there was a year,
there was a day.
Before there was a day,
there was only time.

For time in her grip would be spun into a serenade.

The being conjured a string.
It had no beginning,
it had no end.
It simply went on.

Heejin cast her eyes on the string,
to which it had passed through places where nothing had happened,
through places where everything had yet to happen,
through moments where happenings happen.

She took it in her hands and pulled,
the line becoming a ribbon.
Folded it once, folded it twice.
She sought for the end; she tugged for where it all began.

But in the weight of time,
the Gods waited for her creation of prime.

Heejin could not find the ends,
and all she got were infinite bends.
Her attempt to tie the ribbon of time was in naught,
for there was never an end, nor a beginning to tie.

The ribbon had always curled around itself,
until beginning and ending became the same place.

A fabric snake without a first bite.
An Ouroboros without a mouth.
An Ouroboros without a tail.
The finite in the infinite.

Infinity in the shape of a calendar.
Infinity in the shape of a snake.
Infinity in the shape of a ribbon.

Same difference.

Heejin looked inside the two loops,
but there was nothing there.
She called it Space.

In the each of the two spaces,
she placed two great halves within.
The first she filled with light.
Red. Green. Blue.
Light upon light,
they all combined to become white.

She called it Day.

The second she left untouched.
Cyan. Magenta. Yellow.
Colour upon colour,
it took from the light to become black.

She called it Night.

One was filled.
The other stole.
Given and taken.

Neither was more beautiful,
for Night needed Day to prove that it was dark;
and Day needed Night for proof that it was bright.

Heejin twisted her hands,
For Night and Day could not end.
Night became Day.
Day became Night.
Not once, not twice, but until the forever of time.

She placed a small world inside the darkness;
around it hung a pale sphere.
She called it the Moon.

The Moon could not bear to remain still,
she gave it an Orbit.

For balance she placed another small world inside the brightness;
around it she grew a garden.
She called it the Eden.

Eden thrived off the absence of darkness,
she gave it more Colours.

Flowers that remembered the sky.
Trees that dreamed of the violet.
Rivers that carried gold.

The Moon was lonely unlike Eden,
Heejin gave it friends,
she called them Satellites.

A Sun to warm its loneliness.
Stars to keep it company.
Asteroids to dance across its path.

And within the Space was what she called
The Universe.

Heejin watched.

She counted the Moon’s journey.
She counted Eden’s life.
She counted the Space between them.
She counted the Colours.

And finally, she wrote them down.

Not in squares.
Not in rows.
Not in grids of seven by fives.
Not in twelve little boxes with names trapped inside them.

Her Calendar had no January,
nor was there a February.
There was no Monday, no Sunday.

It was a ribbon.

An infinite ribbon that was stretching around Space,
folding Day into Night,
Night into Day,
Eden looking at darkness,
the Moon yearning for brightness.

Heejin now understood.

A Calendar was never meant to tell her Universe that time existed.
The Calendar was time,
for there was not a first,
nor was there a last.
Every point on the ribbon could be a beginning.
Every point could be an end.
For an ending was simply another place to begin.

The Beginning After the End.