And lo, in the beginning, there was naught but waters— Apsu, the fresh deep, father of stillness, Tiamat, the salt abyss, mother of tumult, And they mingled, and from their union came silt, And silt begat Lahmu and Lahamu, Lahmu the first-born, fierce and formless, Lahamu the second, soft and swirling, And Lahmu and Lahamu begat Anshar and Kishar, Anshar the sky-ring, vast and unyielding, Kishar the earth-ring, broad and patient, And Anshar and Kishar begat Anu, Anu the heaven-lord, crowned with stars, And Anu begat Ea, Ea the wise, lord of waters and cunning, And Ea begat Marduk, Marduk the storm-son, wielder of thunder, Born in secret, forged in wrath, Mighty in arm, terrible in eye. But Apsu was vexed, for the offspring roared and disturbed his rest. And Apsu spake: "Let us slay them, that silence return." Yet Tiamat withheld, though her heart stirred. And Apsu plotted in secret. But Ea perceived, and cast upon him a slumber like death. Apsu fell, and Ea took his crown, And dwelt within his corpse, And builded therein a sanctuary, And therein was Marduk born, The storm-bearer, the king-to-be. Then Tiamat waxed wroth, And gathered her hosts, And set Kingu over them, And gave unto him the tablet of destinies, That none might prevail against her. But Marduk arose, And took the Imhullu, the whirlwind, And the bow of lightning, And the net of binding, And the arrow of tempest. And Tiamat opened her maw to devour him. And Marduk sent the wind into her belly, And her innards swelled, And the arrow pierced her heart, And the net ensnared her, And Tiamat was rent asunder. Then Marduk clove her corpse in twain: The upper half he raised as the firmament, The lower half he laid as the earth. From her eyes flowed the rivers Tigris and Euphrates. From her blood he fashioned men, That they might bear the toil, And the gods might rest. And Marduk spake names, And by names the world was ordered. And the order was his dominion. And he became Lord of all. No strife remained, For the tablet of fates was his. And all the gods bowed low, And cried his fifty names: Asaru, the first, And Marduk, the last. The heavens are his. The earth is his. The sons of men are his. Their labor is his. Their repose is his. And chaos was no more. Tiamat was no more. Only Marduk remained, The sovereign, the maker, The end of all things. (Still chains. Still raw. Now with who they are—before they do. Like a roll-call before the war.)
