Neither was there death nor immortality, Nor was there any sign
then of night or day; Totally windless, by itself, the One breathed;
Beyond that, indeed, nothing whatever was.
In the Principle darkness concealed darkness; Undifferentiated surge
was this whole world. The pregnant point covered by the form matrix,
From conscious fervor, mightily, brought forth the One.
In the Principle, thereupon, rose desire, Which of consciousness
was the primeval seed. Then the wise, searching within their hearts,
perceived That in non-being lay the bond of being.
Stretched crosswise was their line, a ray of glory. Was there a
below? And was there an above? There were sowers of seeds and forces
of might: Potency from beneath and from on high the Will.
Who really knows, who could here proclaim Whence this creation flows,
where is its origin? With this great surge the Gods made their appearance.
Who therefore knows from where it did arise?
This flow of creation, from where it did arise, Whether it was ordered
or was not, He, the Observer, in the highest heaven, He alone knows,
unless…He knows it not.