There is a vast collection of worlds seeping through the emptiness of space, dark and unending, like cosmic rays traveling endlessly across the boundless universe.

Without order, the collection of worlds continuously deteriorated, a burning fire bound to be extinguished by forces that threaten its flame. Without protection to sustain it, the concept of creation would be overwhelmed by relentless destruction. Colliding planets without the laws of gravity, for example. Without order, the concept of life could not be achieved in eternity.

Creation is like a fragile glass. With one single touch, it shatters, leaving fragments that harm other glasses. Without a container to protect it, the glass is inevitably bound to break. And when we look in this glass, it is empty—no water, wine, or any form of liquid; just air, or as we humans call it, nothing. Nothing unique, impressive, or important about this glass; just nothing.

Without someone to protect it or give it purpose, it's merely an object that serves as a placeholder. Creation needs a Creator. A Creator who would give it value, protection, importance, and most of all, purpose.

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Creation waited in the endless void, where its will alone shaped the very concept of time. After aeons upon aeons, time itself lost all meaning as the embodiment of Creation waited endlessly for its Creator to appear.

This time, however, something was different: a cosmic surge in the spacetime continuum—a surge so strong that the concept of time itself stopped.

A phenomenon so majestic that space itself twisted into a three-dimensional kaleidoscope, a whirl of radiant hues from countless stars exploding at once.

Creation, stunned by this event, moved closer to where the ripple originated.

Suddenly, the ripple stopped. The concepts of space and time vanished, leaving an endless void devoid of meaning. The void expanded, devouring everything that Creation had brought into existence, like a black hole swallowing all within its reach, expanding relentlessly until there was nothing left.

Then, a light appeared. It shone through the void like a firefly in a dark forest, moving toward Creation, freeing her from her shackles, and transforming her into a human-like form.

The light settled gently in her arms and materialized as a human baby—a boy, a year old, asleep and snuggling as if nothing in the universe could disturb his peace.

A tear slipped down Creation’s cheek as she embraced the baby, holding him tightly. She knelt down slowly, gazing tenderly upon him.

She spoke for the first time in all eternity, her voice gentle and full of love:

“I have waited forever just to finally meet you, Creator.”

! (^o^) !