The Godhead, floating in void, moans and gibbers in confusion and frustration. It may Speak anything- everything- bounded only by imagination. But the Head is but a newborn, its mind empty, and its surroundings nothing but utter void for unfathomable distances, beyond which the Stars twinkle ineffable songs.
Any sane, rational mind looking out at that void would find nothing, but perhaps despair at the emptiness, the cold, the still.
Fortunately, the Eyes are quite mad.
Before the Make Eye, gazing makeward from the Godhead, the void twists and ripples, ever changing. Creatures bound across the illusory projection of terrain, as they do shifting and mutating into greater forms.
The Second Eye swings along an invisible line, seeing that secondward forms a straightforward progression, the necessary dimension of time. Each swing of the Second Eye marks the beginning and end of one Second.
Dream Eye blinks tiredly and closes, and perchance, begins to dream; of patterns embedded into patterns. Permutations of other sights lodged into one another in unlimited succession.
The World appears before the Crown Eye. What world, what form? Perhaps true answers to such questions don't exist, but Sovereignty carries glory itself.
Mother Eye sights an odd repeating pattern among the void. Not a senseless infinite one, nor a pattern packed unlimitedly within itself, but one which repeats and repeats forever, spreading and shrinking where-ever there is room. It is... fragile.
Something hidden in the dimensions of the Godhead sees something none else do.
Perhaps more practically-perceptioned than most, the bananaboard Eye sights the first glimpse of what might be called physical matter flitting amongst the basal concepts of brawling patterns; it sees a big Banana. And it was grand.
Finally, the Seed Eye sprouts from its shell and sees the Seed Itself.
At last, the Godhead closes its eyes and focuses, patterns tracing themselves actively along its Brain, the earliest forms of informational life already fighting tooth and claw to survive and reproduce within the dark pressure of a Sovereign.
And the Mouth opens, baring its teeth, and speaks:
'Let there be... Let this be the First Second. All myriad of squirming patterns fight among a shell... the Seed of all to follow. It awaits its Second to hatch.'
And so it was.
The Stars are now [3] Right.
Thus begins the Second Second.
Please continue your Gaze as you see fit.