There was no beginning.
Because there was nothing that could begin.
No sky stretched above. No ground existed below. No darkness covered anything.
Even darkness requires space to exist — and space had not yet been shaped.
There was only Him. The almighty being.
Not floating.
Not standing.
Not moving.
Those concepts did not exist yet.
He was not inside the void. The void existed because He allowed the possibility of
it. Time had not started. Distance had not formed. Direction had no meaning. Yet
He was aware.
Absolute awareness.
No thoughts rushed through Him. No emotions flickered. He did not feel loneliness,
for loneliness requires absence — and nothing had ever existed to be absent.
He simply was.
Infinite.
Unchallenged.
Unquestioned.
If power had a source, it would begin with Him. If authority had a limit, it did not
apply to Him. There were no laws to obey, because laws had not been written. No
balance to maintain, because nothing yet required balance.Stillness surrounded everything.
Then, something shifted.
Not movement. Not sound.
Will.
A single, deliberate intention formed. Creation was not born from need. It was not
born from curiosity. It was a decision. Measured. Controlled. Absolute.
The emptiness did not react. It waited.
He did not rush. There was no time to measure delay. His awareness extended
across what would one day become infinity, and He understood every possible
outcome before it could ever occur.
Nothing opposed Him.
Nothing could.
The silence deepened, heavy with unseen potential. If existence were a canvas, it
remained untouched — but the hand that would paint it had already decided.
And for the first time, the stillness felt tension.
Not chaos.
Not disorder.
Expectation.
Creation had not yet begun. But it was no longer an impossibility.
It was inevitable.
And in that inevitability, the story of everything took its first unseen breath.