This feeling pressed a heavy stone upon his surging thoughts; a faint foreboding made his mood grow heavy in turn.
The god of foresight suddenly noticed that above his head, at some unknown moment, a patch of cloud had gathered—not very thick, but dark.
"Is it going to rain?"
He wondered inwardly, and, by reflex, cast a sudden look toward Olympus.
Yet Mount Olympus remained shrouded in a boundless sea of golden cloud.
Holy and solemn radiance still shone upon the whole world, with nothing amiss.
Only then did he quietly set his mind at ease.
"His Majesty must still be lost in the gentleness of the goddess Eurynome. Since the wisdom goddess has already agreed, then this matter has no more obstacles! This is the best moment—must seize it!"
Even though this nameless feeling still troubled Prometheus, he did not waver in the least.
A plan once fixed would not halt for this.
No matter what, he would resolutely carry it through!
The fixed plan would not pause.
And when Prometheus finished saying "I am sure," Metis spread her arms wide.
In an instant she unveiled her newly attained divine body of Wisdom, realized after achieving "Supreme Wisdom"!
As Metis softly unfurled her arms, a voiceless murmur of creation—as if from the dawn of the cosmos—stirred at that moment in the deepest spirit of every existent thing, throughout the universe.
There was no sound, yet "meaning" was already awakened directly.
The divine body of "Wisdom" at this moment descended and reigned over the world!
This was a supreme sacred form no material measure could contain!
Its height was nearly equal to heaven and earth!
Her silhouette blurred the boundary of sky and ground, and the vast starry heavens became the gorgeous backdrop to her divine robe.
Billions of bright stars were but the glittering adornments that trembled and shone when her robe stirred by chance.
The galactic sea that slowly flowed across the vault became the cosmic mantle falling over her shoulders.
And yet such immensity bore no terror or oppression, nor did it harm the world in the least, as if it stood apart from the material realm.
It even gave the sense of making the whole world more vast and deep.
In Metis's Wisdom-body, her features and figure had not greatly changed—still peerlessly beautiful.
But in essence it was no longer any material existence at all.
Her "Wisdom" law-essence, after deep union with Zeus's divine essence and repeated evolutions, was utterly different from its first form.
Her present Wisdom-body was gathered from boundless, unobstructed, all-cleansing, formless, supreme radiance of wisdom—where all forms come together and a single heart remains clear.
It was the light of "understanding," "thinking," and "prudence" itself: not searing, only limpid.
Cool, pellucid, pure, shining, absolutely flawless.
The final crystallization of the universe's purest order and most primal law.
Most spectacular of all was the vast halo of Truth behind her head, turning ceaselessly.
That many-hued, dazzling halo was greater than any star.
It was not the seven colors of common ken, but a harmonious, ordered aureole containing all colors known and unknown.
Within that halo, inexhaustible arcane sigils and axioms—the ultimate mysteries of the universe—swam like fish, like stars, rising and fading, transmuting without end.
They collided and fused with one another and gave birth to newer, deeper mysteries.
It was the "living fossil" of every thought since the universe began; the ultimate condensation of the wisdom of all civilizations.
When her gaze fell from the firmament, it was not a simple "look," but the most thorough "seeing through."
Under that gaze, all disguises, all confusion, all bewilderment melted like winter ice under spring sun.
Endless gentle light fell from that boundless divine body.
That glow was so warm, so clear, bearing a power of enlightenment strong enough to pierce every soul.
It brought not heat to the world, but "clarity" to all things!
Wisdom and thought selflessly seeped into the deepest spirit of every living, spirited being.
It let the lost behold a road ahead; it let the confused find an answer.
In the depths of each heart it caused a tender shoot of wisdom to sprout, yearning to grow, yearning to understand.
It brought to all life inward calm and limpid wisdom.
Thus she stood, quiet between heaven and earth, speaking no word.
Yet the whole world had already understood her presence—"I think, therefore all things are."
At length, after the radiance of "Wisdom" had been freely strewn across the world, the wisdom goddess's holy and majestic voice slowly sounded between heaven and earth.
"Honored Mother of All Things, you are the source of all existence in this cosmos. All that exists exists by your grace.
"I, Metis, first wife of the Supreme God-King Zeus, hereby beg you to grant your blessing to the sons of Iapetus.
"Great Mother of All, please aid them to create that great life which can bring true prosperity to this universe!"
The instant Metis's words fell, the earth before Prometheus and Epimetheus suddenly seemed to gain life of its own.
At once it began to swell and flourish with endless vitality!
A great mass of "Soil of Genesis" shining with ten-colored light—the most precious primordial substance in the cosmos, capable of shaping all things—appeared out of thin air before them.
At the same time, that trace of dark cloud on the horizon at last broke its silence and sent down a fine, misting rain.
The gentle, gossamer sweet rain fell and soaked that "Soil of Genesis," slowly merging into it.
A remote sanction from the heights quietly sealed itself within the life to be born,
completing the genesis substrate that creates all things.
Metis looked down upon the two gods and, with a holy, majestic, supreme bearing seemingly devoid of all emotion, spoke slowly:
"Sons of Iapetus, His Majesty the great Zeus—King of All the Gods, God above the gods, Lord of the Universe—commands you to create, together, the life that can bring prosperity to the world.
"Now, you may begin."
The two gods answered at once.
They met each other's eyes, and all distractions vanished; in an instant's exchange, every private thought and wandering mind was swept away.
Then each likewise manifested his unique divine body of law!
This was the second time since their births in the universe that they had manifested their divine bodies together.
The first was when they were begotten.
That was when the ten thousand phenomena were yet undivided.
The void between heaven and earth seemed to be split in two by a straight, upright line—formless, without image.
On one side of that line, countless stars appeared out of the void.
In silence, rationality condensed, composing a star-sea of future possibility that glittered with orbits and axioms.
It was like a single, most precise, colossal orrery, turning with a cool, unquestionable trajectory.
All civilizations yet unborn, all miracles yet unimagined, all causes and choices yet to be enacted…
Every blueprint of what would be was continuously deduced and shining upon that boundless star-chart.
From that future vista a divine body suffused with absolute reason and cool radiance stepped forth in composure.
He was the god of foresight and foreknowledge—Prometheus.
His divine form was clean and bright, precise yet intangible, its piercing light illuminating all.
It was woven from boundless, resplendent free imaginings, from numberless "future possibilities" crystallized into dazzling crystal and pure light, and from the icily lucid absolute reason.
Its structure was perfect, its lines distinct, full of the ultimate design thought and a far-seeing that saw through all things—a semi-translucent crystalline divine body as perfect and rational as mathematics.
Within his eyes there flickered and changed forever the scenes of all that was to occur,
filled with calculations, planning, and weighing of what was "not yet."
As Prometheus unveiled his divine body, on the other side of that line the void began a phantom burning, kindling a sea of bygone experience flowing with molten gold and icy will.
All civilizations long vanished, all deeds long forgotten, all former loves and hatreds, joys and sorrows—
all embers of the past heaved and gleamed within that vast sea of light.
From those embers of old a divine body of inexhaustible strength and heat slowly stood.
He was the god of afterthought—Epimetheus.
His body was heavy and solid.
It was forged from the cold dirt and hard rock of countless "accomplished facts" and from searing experience.
His muscles swelled, his lines were rugged, filled with the most primal creative impulse and a fire never quenched.
In his eyes there was always only the scene that had just occurred,
filled with the remorse, rapture, and remembrance of what "already is."
Upon his skin were unnumbered scars,
the deep fissures left by every failed attempt, and the fresh brands stamped whenever errors were corrected.
They were all the scars and glories of everything the universe had known since its birth!
These two great gods stood back to back, their spines joined, and at last fused into one at the world's center.
Two faces—one toward the "future," one toward the "past."
They became two faces of the same god, turned toward "future" and "past."
Where their holy backs met was neither matter nor energy,
but a slit so bright it seared and so void it could not be looked upon by mortal beings.
That was—"the present."
When they appeared together and cleaved perfectly into one, that upright, formless line slowly began to change.
The sky did not split; the earth did not quake.
Reality seemed unchanged.
Only that upright line that had split the void in two was gently bent by a great, invisible force—soft yet irresistible—into a vast, self-joining ring that flowed forever.
In that moment, the "God of Foreknowledge-and-Afterthought" descended into the world!
The original divine bodies of Prometheus and Epimetheus, if compared singly to Metis's Wisdom-body, were no different from ants.
But now that the two were one, an unimaginable change took place!
Even compared to Metis's Wisdom-body, this god was now like a child!
This god was the dialectical unity of "creation" and "reflection," "thought" and "action," "imagination" and "reality," "reason" and "feeling."
It was the "arrow of time manifest," showing both ends at once—arrow and target appearing together.
It was the eternal embodiment, most true in this cosmos, of that great act called "thinking."
Prometheus cast his well-wrought "seeds of planning," his forward-gazing designs, upon the ground called "reality."
Most seeds broke upon reality, yet a few took root and sprouted—those were the courageous, forward probes!
Epimetheus, upon the ground of "reality," gathered the "broken fruits" the "seeds of planning" had borne, and tempered them a thousandfold into "foundation-stones of growth."
Thus came the profound reflection and correction rich with experience!
Those "foundation-stones of growth," recast by precious experience—no longer perfect, but tougher—would rise slowly along the ring's track,
and ultimately flow back to Prometheus's feet, becoming the new insight and foresight indispensable when he conceived the next, more perfect "seed of planning."
They were, in truth, one god,
a great deity who, in the universe's "binary" unfolding, had to divide.
They were the sons of the "Eternal Cycler,"
the two spokes without which the great chariot of "civilization" could not roll ever forward.
The eternal incarnations of the "knowing" and the "doing" in their opposing unity!
Prometheus stood for civilization's thought, reason, far-sight, forward gaze, transcendence, new cognition, design, and planning.
Epimetheus stood for civilization's naïveté, trial, experience, reflection, limitation, action, humility, and awe.
Civilization, by current cognition, thinks, imagines the future, and builds designs.
Then it acts boldly, reflects on its errors in action, sums precious experience, and finally attains new understanding,
then corrects its errors and carries on designing and planning a better future.
So is formed a virtuous cycle, repeating without end, and in the end driving civilization's ceaseless advancement.
The two oppose and unite, clash and co-exist.
Lose either link, and civilization will inexorably move toward final ruin.
Only in balance, fitted to one another, does civilization have a future!
This is the true "foreknowledge" and "afterthought"!
The great god at last again achieved his brief but complete unified whole.
Back to back, the forward-facing Prometheus reached out both hands and grasped that mass of genesis substrate, granted by the Mother of All and soaked in sweet rain, that could fashion anything.
Then he began the greatest work—most mad, most audacious, most longed for.
Facing the past, Epimetheus at the same time stretched his hand over the wide world.
From the spirit of every life they had made, he drew all those opposing yet co-existent traits—"good" and "evil," "fair" and "foul," "pure" and "turbid," "true" and "false," "upright" and "crooked"—and kneaded them all together into a single, formless ball of light!
Bold beyond measure, Prometheus strictly followed the gods' image, applying the sacred "divine form" template!
After exquisite modifications he had rehearsed countless times, he shaped the first mortal akin in form to the gods—a "human."
It was a man.
"Human," in a form nearly identical to the gods' noble image!
He had a body that could stand upright with a straight back!
Thus he was born able to gaze upon the vast stars, not, like a beast, forever bound to the ground beneath his feet.
The form was shaped, but it was still a cold, lifeless thing—a little figure of clay.
Prometheus did not pause. He leaned to the clay man's head and softly breathed upon it.
He bestowed the highest "reason," and it sank deep into the human's brain.
And Epimetheus, having kneaded all those opposing yet co-existing traits into one chaotic sphere of light, took the clay man from Prometheus's hands. With a deft touch he opened its chest,
cast the formless light-ball within,
then blew a breath into the clay man's chest as well.
The sundered chest instantly made whole.
Beyond all the traits of spirited life, that precious "feeling" remained forever in the human with that breath, beating ever in his hot heart!
Henceforth "feeling" and "reason" would coexist forever,
ever branded into "human" nature.
They would grind one another and contend, and also shine upon one another, unto eternity.
The wisdom goddess only watched, quiet, as Prometheus performed his boldest and most presumptuous act.
His desire to create truly intelligent life was no fault.
But he had now done the boldest, most presumptuous, and most reckless thing of all.
A mortal made in the likeness of gods!
Yet Metis's peerless face remained unchanged.
For this was the will of her beloved God-King, the greatest god—Zeus!
When Prometheus, eyes full of plea and expectation, turned to her, she, with the supreme honor and authority of the God-King's first wife, cast that most precious "spirit" into the clay figure,
and at the same time shaped for it a resilient soul, to protect that "spirit," still slight and fragile.
"Human" at last lived.
Yet in this newborn life's eyes there was still a haze of ignorance.
Metis looked upon the still-bewildered little one and parted her lips.
A current of clear breath—bearing boundless vitality and life—issued from her mouth and wrapped the newborn human completely.
"Wisdom of freedom," "potential for growth," and "inquiring thought" she sent then into the human.
In that instant the human's once-bewildered gaze changed beyond measure!
He now possessed the power to "observe" and to "think."
He had wisdom that could grow in freedom.
This newly created being, apart from lacking the immortal "divinity," now differed not at all from a god.
Just then, a sudden change!
From the supreme Mount Olympus there shot the swiftest and most majestic bolt of golden lightning!
That lightning ripped through endless time and space, descended in sovereignty, and, unerring, struck the newborn man!
At once it sundered bone and blood, spirit and soul, in two!
With a cry that mingled pain with the joy of birth, the sundered bone, blood, and soul scattered upon the remaining genesis substrate, wrapped in the holy lightning.
At the same time, upon Mount Olympus, the goddess Dione—who signified the cosmos's utmost yin—cast from afar into that substrate, now mixed with the man's bone, blood, and soul, a mass of "pure yin water" bearing her divine essence.
Thus the first woman was born from that substrate.
The God-King, with lightning as the measure, divided yin and yang, so that "one" might multiply.
And the goddess Dione endowed "woman" with the virtues proper to the yin.
Under the holy golden lightning, the first man—"wounded"—swiftly recovered in that sacred refining of creative thunder.
His cloven bone and blood, spirit and soul knit themselves with speed visible to the eye.
Thus, among the world's mortal beings, there at last appeared a truly intelligent race!
And both attributes, "yin" and "yang," were present together.
Prometheus said nothing.
He now fully understood that all he had done had passed under the tacit leave—indeed the arrangement—of that supreme God-King.
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