Echoes of Olympus: Birth of the Primordials

In the endless dark where silence dwells, A formless presence surged and swelled. Chaos, boundless, vast, and wild, The first of all, unknown, unstyled.

In that void, without a spark, Where light was lost and all was dark, Chaos whispered, deep and low, From this emptiness, life would grow.

From Chaos’ depths, five forms took flight, Born of shadows, shaped by night. First came Nyx, the veiled and sly, Goddess of night, the shrouded sky. Her cloak unfurled in waves of black, The stars themselves her silent track.

Erebus next, the god of shade, In darker depths his realm was laid. His shadows woven thick and fast, The boundary none would ever pass. He ruled the space where light withdrew, A realm of secrets, known by few.

Then Tartarus, a dread abyss, A prison cast in Chaos' kiss. A fathomless pit, both dark and deep, Where titans’ souls would one day sleep. The yawning chasm, fierce and grim, Would hold the fallen, lost within.

Gaia rose, of earth and stone, A force both ancient and alone. She birthed the hills, the verdant glades, The cliffs, the seas, the hidden shades. Life itself within her stirred, Each root and river, tree and bird.

Last of all, from Chaos’ sigh, Eros took form, the bold, the sly. The god of love, of passion’s flame, The power none could ever tame. With wings as soft as twilight’s breath, He whispered life, defied death.

So from the void, these five took form, In whispers dark, in silence warm. Each an echo of Chaos’ will, Bound to shape and fill the still.