In the beginning was the Great God Aum.
Aum took of its hands and made a bowl, and this bowl is the world.
Aum took its eye and made the sun.
Aum took its heart and made the moon.
Aum's every breath becomes a star.
Aum gave life to its thoughts, and these were the Worlds Beyond and the gods who dwell there.
Aum gave life to its hopes and fears, and these are the people of the world.
Aum gave life to its dreams, and this was The Gift.
This is not metaphor or myth. This is what happened. If you fly high above the world, so high that the air becomes more pure and less blue, you can see Aum seated before the world, its great shape blocking out the stars behind it. Its face, the one central eye missing, is strange and alien and unreadable. Two immense arms cradle the million-mile-wide bowl that is the world, while the other arms move in mystic symbols, hands making mudras of power. There is a scar on Aum's chest where the moon was taken out. In addition to eclipses, there is also The Regard, when the blazing eye of Aum tuns its pupil toward the world for a day rather than gazing outward.
Vocab: The Gift is what people on this world call magic. (Well, most of them. Some cultures are less happy.) The Worlds Beyond are other "planes of existence", though the "stack of planes" analogy isn't appropriate here.
Aum breathes very slowly. When it exhales, a star is born in the distance.