To fall off the edge of the Earth is to fall into a never-ending beginning.

First, you’ll hear God whisper muspell,

and a big bang will echo off the chests of the other gods into void ripping one apart.

From his pieces a fruit-bearing tree will form and a lotus will bloom. 

From the lotus will crawl a spider woman, and

she will drool onto a raven’s black egg causing it to crack.

Out from that egg a corn-chewing tortoise will waddle, but his fraternal twin, a snake, will refuse to leave the shell and rest until a more opportune time.

The tortoise will rub against the base of the fruit-bearing tree and so will a pregnant white mare.

The mare will give birth to a woman who will dance and fight with the now intrigued snake. 

The woman and snake will kick up enough dust

to mix with the vomit of an onlooking god which will always create a mudslide.

 Humans, oblivious to the strong winds quickly trying them, will form in the mud and war with each other.

Suddenly and persistently, the bang of man’s cracking and shattering will echo off the chests of the gods.

A stillness more solemn than a tomb will close all around you.

Darkness will cover the face of the deep, 

and from the deep,

אֹ֑ור.