The first thing is not a word, but a sound, an idea made manifest. The inner thoughts of a person are released into the liminal. With the first stroke of black on white, the page is transformed; from blank everything to something afloat in a newly created Nothing.
From the void, which is not, a shout and a cry, the release of thought to word, an act of creation itself, it dispels the Nothing,
Creating the Absurd,
A realm of something reflected through liminal mists,
In mirrors of shadowed nothings