Chapter One, Verse One



                                              - Dan Albergotti


In the beginning was the word,
and the word was no.
And the word trembled out
over sand and snow.

Over seas and mountains
the word was spread.
Over clay and ash,
remains of the dead.

In the beginning was the word,
and the word was a lie,
and that lie lay hard
under a darkening sky.

Through wind and rain
the word echoed still.
Through wet summer air,
and dry winter chill.

In the beginning was the world,
and it called for a word
with each great crashing wave,
each still, stiffened bird.

Where still bodies lay
and time would defile,
the world needed a word
to help nurture denial.

In the end the word
was only a sound,
a sound no one hears
beneath grass or mound.

You can still hear it now,
endless echoes of no.
And still blows the sand,
still falls the snow.