There was an emptiness, once. It was an emptiness no man can begin to contemplate. After all, how can someone who has never seen nothing know what it looks like? How can he know what it feels like? Sounds like?

There was an emptiness, once, until a silent flash of light created everything. Did anyone miss the emptiness? Was there something there, something that didn't exist (because how could it, in emptiness?), but still knew that the emptiness was around it, in it, part of it? Was there a consciousness there, who recognized the lack and lived to see it filled? Did it miss the quiet nothing?

There was an emptiness, once. The consciousness was part of it, and yet separate from it. It could view the void from the inside and the outside; could know it intimately and yet view it objectively. What happened when the void was gone? Part of the consciousness was gone as well. Suddenly, it was separate from everything. It no longer was part of everything (or nothing) that surrounded it. Was it sad, this consciousness? Or was it relieved? Was the knowing of everything around it a blessing or a burden?

Did it see the flash of light that ended the non-existence it knew? Did it have eyes, this consciousness? Did it have ears? If it did, would it have known what they were and how to use them? Perhaps it did. But, in the void, what use were they? The first thing it saw was the light that killed everything it had been. Once it knew of sight and sound, did it realize that it had these things before? Was it absorbed in using these new abilities, or did it weep for what it might have seen, if only it had known sight was possible?

And the sounds. In the sudden wash of noise from creation, did it remember what absolute silence was like?

When it finally existed, did it wish for what had been? Did it remember the nothingness of its former life? Or did it look at itself, finally extant, completely engrossed? Was the past forgotten in the sheer miracle of the here and know? Did it weep? Perhaps it did. Or, perhaps it simply looked around at the newness, saw that it was different, and said: “And here I am.”