Mark Clark

Music, books, plays, musicals & educational resources

Mark Clark is an Aussie songwriter, scriptwriter, voice over, author and drama coach. He was Pip in the ABC's version of Ethel Turner's Seven Little Australians.

The Nature of God

God created the universe because God was all, but nothing. Like a river-course, a pathway driven, but dry and barren of water; like a body pattern woven, the extant veins awaiting the flood of blood; like the thinnest outline of a maze stamped upon a nothingness waiting for minds to conceive of it, God was all potential things yet none in reality, a template stamp of time and space with none to tramp and wonder within, an empty thing, but all.


So it was that God withdrew His soul and infused the resultant vacuum with pure light and created the physical universe. And behold, God saw that it was good. A functioning process within which grosser, relative minds would marvel and revere that which had been created.


For God had never beheld His own beauty. Being absolute, all was light to Him. The shattered ephemeral shards of suns in ecstasy amidst the turbulent sea of space were not directly knowable to Him. Relative minds alone were privy to its lesser truth, yet so beautiful must it be, thought God, that I must know it through them.


So the supreme narcissist had made a mirror in which to behold his own face. But more than this, for through his relative agents, internal, yet strangely external to His self, God would learn information hitherto unknown to Him. Imagine the wealth of varying impressions to be had; the myriad cultures developing within and among the countless planets all with the seed of Him in their souls, enough for conjecture, not enough for certainty, the vague-clarity of their perceptions filtering worship-like to fill His cup of self-discovery.


The patient suns tumbled in the void concocting their cocktails of heavy elements, then spewed them forth, their hearts burst for want of food, were reborn at last in a coalescence of dust to form new powerhouses around which circled, like playful atoms, their failed fractions, the planets, upon some of which tickled the first naphtha flashes of electricity across the warm soups nurturing amino acids, the building blocks of proteins, life and eventually the higher intelligences, which swarmed half-ape, half-angel like flourishing fungi upon the falling globes, scaled-down gods amidst the chaos of God's sanity, tear-filled eyes raised upward in contemplation of His majesty.


Date written: Early 1990's