A little mythology from one of my worlds. I hope you enjoy.

The first word spoken was a blade
It cut the second and dawn was made
In the rising light the truth unfurled
Showing what became the world.

A world of silence, no voice yet sang
Where all creation paused, listening.
In the still there rose a song
Following the light of dawn.

And to its vaunting melody
New voices came in harmony.
From the song the First were born
And welcomed in that early morn.

Tall and fair and strong as light
In a world that knew no night
They sang the sun into the sky
And turned to find their maker nigh.

He walked with them and taught them well
(How great his sorrow when they fell!)
But still the first word lingered on
And cut the sky with each dawn.

Others yet would join them there
Mortal souls laid raw and bare.
And so they taught their mortal kin
All the ways that things begin.

And while the world was fresh and new
Their friendship flourish and grew.
Though the sundering world would come
For these short ages all were home.

And though that world has passed and gone
Fair and mortal all souls press on
And though the breaking still brings pain
Still the first word cuts dawn again.

Blade of Dawn copyright © Heather Strickler 2025 all rights reserved