Silence Passed

First days of creation have passed, silence penetrating it's entire sphere of relievable life. Ancient, creating continuously throughout eternity, the breath and soul of the universe. Soulfully tending expectant whispers of each beginning, identifying the exquisite touch of gentle joy. Neglecting purposes of ideal precision, instead counting solo feelings living inside. Skating over the slippery etchings of liberty, grasping icicles of purity and innocence as life slips and falls into a creative havoc of all beginnings. Turning insipid followings into the deep dark black of night, allocated time has run completely out while the first days of creation continue into infinity.