Pressure and a breath.
With a spiraling thunder of light, immensity folds against itself and becomes two: the void and the substance, the emptiness and the energy, the shade and the hue.
Hello, it says to itself, and it is talking to its sibling.
Hello, it replies.
Newness erupts with blinding joy where it meets itself, where they meet each other, and the new things are blushing Pink, and Red, great and passionate, and Orange the wavering child, and Yellow so cheery, and cool chuckling Green, and sedate, serene Blue, and Indigo, sly and shadowy, and Purple the odd, and Brown that will go unappreciated but will hold up all that comes after, and the shade and the hue look at each other and see that they are Black and White and where they mingle they merge, and with joy name that gentle merging Gray.
They look at each other, and see themselves.
Later, their children will give them new names, but that is after creation is finished, and they are holding onto the intensities their children cannot, and have given the rest of themselves away. They are not yet Universe and Flame; they have too much yet to be.
This is the day. . .
And they dance.