a shadow of a great tired giant of the earth hangs over. all space is unclear in its delineations. where one thing ends is not where another begins but they bleed into each other. amidst the painless bruising of space which is ripe for its own illuminating, the light appears. one light is not the same as another, they say. for now is only a product of its illumination. still, the shadow of the ancient tired earth hangs over. a solid rock is the eardrum of the earth, still resonant. even then it lingers over its shadow, strung to space more potently than space itself can resound its edges. between forms there is a chasm which may be filled or emptied, and, it still brimming, reverberates with its own quality. the quality of what is contained in the darkness is more or less equivalent to what is contained in the light, excepting where there may be none of one or the other. though in the compass of dark or light there is always the threat of another born of beginning. this is the origin story of figures, shapes, images, that something birthed this all before, which also bears its own destructive elements.