Faith - A Series ( uploading)

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In the beginning—before beginning—there was no “in the beginning.”

Only the Vast Silence.  

A boundless, unnameable absence that was not empty, but full of unborn everything.

We, the latecomers, reach back with trembling words and give it names:

- **Nun**, the infinite black waters that cradled potential before the first mound rose.  

- **Chaos**, the yawning gap where no forms yet quarreled, older than the ordered cosmos it would birth.  

- **Nyx**, velvet-winged Night, mother of sleep, death, and day itself—darkness so deep it dreamed light into being.  

- **Ginnungagap**, the mighty void between fire and frost, the pregnant nothing where heat kissed ice and the first giant groaned awake.  

- **Tiamat**, the roaring salt-sea dragon-mother whose body, torn in two, became sky and earth.  

- The formless **Tohu wa-Bohu** over which the Spirit hovered.  

- The unmanifest womb before Brahman exhaled manifestation.  

- The dark pre-dawn hush known to countless peoples who never wrote it down, yet felt its weight in every heartbeat.

No one owned it. No tradition monopolized it. Every culture simply turned, looked into the same abyss, and whispered a different syllable of awe.

Then came the naming that divided:  

Light from dark.  

Land from sea.  

God from goddess.  

Order from wildness.  

And with the naming came the blazing ones—the radiant faces we could bear to look upon:  

Ra rising in his solar barque.  

Osiris, lord of resurrection.  

Zeus thundering from Olympus.  

Odin hanging on the world-tree for wisdom.  

Amaterasu stepping from her cave to warm the world again.  

Brahma creating, Vishnu preserving, Shiva dancing destruction and renewal.  

Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent of wind and knowledge.  

Olorun, supreme sky, and the orishas who carry his power to earth: Obatala shaping humanity, Yemaya mother-ocean, Shango fire and justice.  

And later, the One called Allah, whose ninety-nine names still echo the mystery of the Unnameable.

Each tradition a different brushstroke on the same canvas.  

Each prophet, each scripture, each hymn a single note in a vast, unfinished symphony pointing back toward the silence before sound.

We are not here to choose which name is truest.  

We are here to remember they all arose from the same speechless source—  

and that the source still breathes behind every name, patient, vast, and utterly without preference.

This is only the threshold.  

The story has no true beginning and no final end, only deeper and deeper remembering.

Peace be unto every trailblazer who ever dared to speak unity across the names.

The next chapter waits for your voice.

What shall we name next?  

Or whose face shall we gaze upon together now?

As we research, it seems be THE GOD, ALLAH is the winner …the last of the Abrahamic Faith?  Join me in the global series… simple called PEACE. In production. Interactive.

William