All around me was a stark abyss.
 
It was a sea of mist and pearly clouds-an endless ocean of fog and wisps of smoke.

I could not remember how I had wandered to such a place as this, for it was very lonely and very desolate.

I was not comfortable here; I felt as if I had been ripped asunder,

like my body existed only within the spaces between the unending mist.

I was becoming very afraid, because I did not know how long I had been suspended here,

and I figured that many would be wondering where I was.

I stopped myself a bit at that last notion.

Who exactly was I?  ... I tried to recall as many memories as I could,

but I was only left in a haze.

Would anyone search for me?

My slight fear turned to panic, and I looked about frantically to see if I could find an end to the mist.

Alas there was nothing but the dew and clouds, neither black nor white in color.

It truly was a bleak world I found myself in now, and I could not even tell if my heart beat or my breath lingered still.

There was no light, no colour or sound in this bleak shadow realm,

and there was no feeling, save for the oppressive smothering of the mist.

As it was seemingly pointless to try to move, I decided to ponder over what memories I still retained.

The faces of people melted away and their names forgotten,

but I could still remember the expressions of joy, grief and apathy.

Ah, people! I remember their complexity.

Was I even human even more?

I durst not even ponder that….

I could also remember music.

At first the notes whirled up from the mist like miniature cyclones,

and they roared into symphonic gales.
 
I realised that I could create my own music; for what seemed like years

I experimented with arranging complex melodies

so weird in design that no composer would have ever dreamt of them.

I felt the years melt away from me, and I was ageless once again.

My music was so beautiful that pale sparks began to fly about me in volcanic flurries,

and mountains of fire rose out of the mist, twisting to the sky like a rocky forest.

I marveled over them, for I had thought of music, and fire spilled from the fathoms of them.

For aeons more I reveled in my eldritch phantasies,

and strange plants sprung from the fire-forged rocks,

burning the layer of fog away in time to the swirling music.

With the plants came gentle creatures that nibbled upon their large unfurled fronds,

which grew larger and larger with the years.

The infernal mountains spit fire once more, and from the ashes rose sinister wraiths.

Wyverns and phoenixes glided through the sky as ethereal kings,

licking the charred welkin with their scorched tongues.

The world was full of colour once again, for stars twinkled in the sky

as I hung them up with fallen heroes and noble beasts.

Unending waves of light rained upon the earth, scattering a prism of light

on the unsown fields of a young universe.
 
It was utopia.

I watched my creatures, my children live in harmony.

There were no conflicts- there was no death.

I existed in a blissful world indeed, for all was well for aeternities.

At once my creations began to change.

They grew larger still, and more intelligent and vicious.

The weaker ones were picked apart and the survivors grew greedier still, devouring all in sight.

I was afraid for them, but I could not reason with them.

They were now human, after all, and I could only hope that they would heed my starlit messages.

My sorrow and fear returned.

I saw this world decay even further, despite the wondrous advancements of my children.

They had become wise and talented, amassed great wealth, but lost in arcane spirit.

No matter what kingdoms and colonies they built, I sensed them grow farther apart from me.

I cried rivers of destruction, of sulphur and lava.

I realised that this world had become as desolate as my world of mist and chaos,

and I found it better to return to that longing nothingness.

I could obliterate my creation.

I could return it to the aeternal night that it had sprung from, and so it would dissolve.

This world is my creation.

I am my own centre, I am the world.

I am a god in my own right with subjects to bow before me.

I am plague, I am famine and fury.

I am their misery, I am aeternal sorrow and apathy.

I am the world, beyond good and evil.

I am the architect,

I am the divine.

I am as common as another twinkling star in the moonless night.