Date Of Birth

Can you see it?

That bright speck in the middle of the void.

Can you feel that too?

Time is starting, winding up the long irregular seconds and minutes,

Finding its rhythm moment to moment,

Each second building into a heartbeat for the infinite nothing.

Something is happening.

Movement, vibration, and random chance are dicing for the inevitable.

And suddenly light,

White and vast, exploding across the infinite black without ever filling it.

A great wave of energy and essence in its purest form.

The void shrugs, shuffles to allow it room then wraps it in an embrace.

Time slides past in eons and seconds.

The light fades but the movement remains.

Specks of energy boil and spin, hungrily gathering each other as energy becomes matter.

Then the dance begins.

Each speck turns alone until they find their partners.

In the music of time they step in patterns around the infinite ballroom.

The planets waltz around the suns, who minuet amidst the galaxies.

The boiling gas becomes earth and sky.

We mark the time and call it zero.

The date of birth.