In the beginning was the world.
It was a world, and that's all. An orb floating through the ever-changing continuum of space, a mass of physics revolving around a yellow-gold sphere of flames, biding its time. Like clockwork, it revolved, it rotated, it looked upon the rest of its kin, as they moved, enmasse, through the ether. A million orbs floating in the sky. In the beginning was the world.
In the beginning was the cell. In the poisonous, ruthless sea of the world, it gasped and panted as it negotiated every passing second, every passing day of its existence, counting its time in the revolutions of the world, in the ups and downs of the burning yellow sphere that dominated the sky, or the waxing and wayning of the calm white sphere as it went through its cycles. Day and night, yin and yang, dark and light, but there was no one to look at it. Yet. For in the beginning was just the cell.
In the beginning was fire. Time had flown past like a river in a hurry to meet the sea, or so it would seem hardly a few milleniums hence. For at no time before had the world seen so much change in itself, nor the cell seen so much of its kin. At no time before had the rapid change of the universe been so obvious, so apparent, as when in that blink of a cosmological eye, things changed forever, and suddenly a pair of eyes fell upon the miracle for the first time: in the beginning was fire.
In the beginning was: what? The world never could have thought of the cell. The cell could never have thought of the advent of fire. And fire would scarce believe that in her simple beginnings something as wonderfully profound as the human mind could take seed. That someday this very pair of eyes that stared at it so absolutely today would someday stare at a rocket fly off to space, at a canvas that would fill up with color, stare at a million things, take in, discover, invent.
That someday the first written word would appear. That someday the first painting would be drawn on the stone wall. That someday someone will start to dream. To love. To hate. To think. That someday, this whole mass of coincidence, would collapse into one single thought in someone's head.
So, right, I'll take your leave. Happy life!
