The Before Time

De: W. G. Sweet

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

In the epoch before epochs, before the first star ignited or the first whisper of thought coalesced, there existed a state of being so profound, so utterly complete, that it defied definition. It was a boundless, uncolored tranquility, an expanse that knew no north or south, no rise or fall, no beginning or end. Imagine a canvas unpainted, a song unsung, a silence pregnant with all possibility, yet utterly devoid of form or shadow. In this infinite quietude, there were no shadows to define light, for light itself was not yet a concept, nor was there discord to give melody meaning, for melody was an echo of potentiality yet to manifest. Existence, in its nascent, unshaped glory, was a singular, harmonious hum, a perfect stillness that resonated with the promise of everything that would ever yet be nothing of what it would become. This was the ‘Before Time,’ a realm of pure, undifferentiated joy, existing outside the constructs of form or feeling that would later define the tapestry of existence. The very essence of all that could possibly manifest was present, not as individual threads, but as a unified, unshaped whole, a perfect stillness that contained within it the potential for every conceivable hue, every conceivable sound, every conceivable form, and every conceivable emotion. It was a state of pure, unadulterated being, a state of absolute potential, where the concept of ‘is’ was synonymous with ‘could be.’

This primordial stillness was not an empty void, but a vibrant, albeit undifferentiated, fullness. It was the ultimate potential, the source from which all actuality would eventually flow. Within this quiescent expanse, the seeds of all that was to come lay dormant, not as separate entities, but as interwoven strands within the singular fabric of existence. There was no consciousness of self, no awareness of other, only the unblemished unity of all that was to be. It was a state of being so pure, so absolute, that it was, in a way, indistinguishable from non-existence, yet it held within it the latent power to birth universes. The stillness was not a passive absence, but an active potential, a vibrant hum of pure possibility. It was the ultimate quiet before the symphony, the unblemished canvas before the first stroke of divine artistry. The concept of ‘time’ itself was meaningless, for there was no past to remember, no future to anticipate, only an eternal, unchanging present of pure, unadulterated potential.

Within this quiescent expanse dwelled, not as individuals in the way later beings would understand, but as facets of divine potential, The Seven. They were not distinct beings with names and forms, but rather, pure essences, archetypes of what was to come, yet to be born into manifestation. They were not separate from God, but emanations of His being, the unwritten story of creation held within His infinite mind.

In this state of perfect unity, God, the singularity of ultimate creation, perceived the exquisite isolation of His own infinite potential. While the unity of The Seven was perfect, it was also a reflection of His singular nature. To bring forth a universe of complexity, of interaction, of growth, a divergence was necessary. In an act of divine will, an expression of His boundless love and creative impulse, He drew these distinct essences together, not by force, but by the irresistible call of unity,

It was in this moment of gathering, as the distinct potentials of The Seven began to interact, that the first subtle ripple of change occurred. A seed of discontent, subtle and insidious, began to sprout in the quietude of the Before Time, a tiny seed of doubt sown in the fertile ground of pure potential, a whisper of what was to come.