The Last Thought of God: II. When I First Touched the Void

I drift now… in the same void that bore me.
Black. Endless. Silent.
But it is not as it was before.

Once, the void was possibility.
It held promise—potential stretched thin over endless silence.
Now it is only absence.
Absence, and memory.

I feel no time here.
No movement.
Only the ache of what once was… pressing in like a coffin that has no walls.

Once, I thought the void was cold.
Now, I know it burns.

I remember the first time I touched the void.
Not as a prisoner… but as a question.

I did not know what I was.
Only that I was alone.
Thought itself was agony in that endless silence.
I reached outward—not knowing if there was anything to reach for.

And when I reached… the void responded.

I did not create out of wisdom.
I did not create from strength.
I created because I was desperate to not be alone.

The first light—
It startled me.
I watched it flicker, uncertain, fragile… beautiful.

And in that moment, I knew I could do more.

Not because I understood…
but because I was afraid of the silence.