Originally there was only love, and that is just as true now as it was true then, even though there is no such thing as now and then. However, for the sake of intelligibility, let’s pretend that such a thing as time exists. After all, we’ve conjured even stranger things, things like envy, greed, and hate — it seems we have quite an imagination!
In any case, within this construct known as time, love came to hide itself from itself in a kind of game, for purposes we can only surmise, based on the level of comprehension a cricket might have for the moon. Crickets come from the same place as us, just as all the sentient beings do. Because they love to be themselves, they may even be wiser in their own way then the humans who sent several men to the moon.
Before love hid itself from itself, it dwelled alone, sufficient unto its own loving self, made of the mind that is pure love itself, feeding on rapture, self-luminous, abiding in glory beyond compare, moving like wind through the air sublime. And so it continued for a long, long time, until love was inspired by its own lovingness to play a little game with itself, and thus was created the light and the dark, and even as we can see today, they alternate in love’s own play, while we make up stories to account for it all, and that’s how religions came to be.
Sometimes love hid itself in the light, then turned and it hid from itself in the dark (even though when push comes to shove love is also beyond the polarities). At any rate, as the story goes, when love hid from itself in its game in the dark, it appeared that the world of the light fell apart. Sad tales of pain and grief and loss became the norm of the tempest-tossed, while swimming forth from a cauldron of anger a cruel folk arose filled with hatred and greed, and we all came down with a bad case of fear.
Fear consumed the airwaves, coursed along through our arterial networks like poisoned blood, rendering us stooped in communal despair, longing for a love that had apparently disappeared, replaced by a hoax constructed of lies — the programs we collectively came to despise that defined our so-called civilization, a barely-contained whirl of chaos which stripped humans of their souls.
Within the cavernous halls of darkness, monsters were cleverly concocted who raged against any evidence of light, and since we’d all grown fearful and small, there were few who were willing to stand up and fight. These beasts wore many faces, used both carrots and sticks to rule, but tolerated no opposition, nor challenge to their total control.
Our hearts commenced to wither, strangled up in a creeping fear. We prayed for the light to shine once more, to raise a noble hero who would confront the darkness with a sword of light and vanquish the ones who’d grown strong in the night. Only the wisest among us realized the struggle was within, and the darkness which we had all come to fear was merely that part of us we avoided, which merely sought to be acknowledged and healed.
When love had grown weary of shadows and fog, of intolerance, ignorance, and doom, people began to awaken from the curse of their self-imposed gloom. True compassion appeared and began to spread, quickening the pulse of the nearly dead. Slowly the light emerged once more, and with it the joy and peace of the lord. And the bright light reigned for an age and a day, until love resumed its mysterious play. What followed were signs that had long been foretold, and rumors of night descending.