Updated: Jul 17
The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and wither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the spirit.
On the edge of the universe, in the Black Nothingness just beyond the light of stars reserved for new beginnings, a large calloused hand gripping a fistful of salt opened. He turned his hand so the salt poured into the blackness. As it ceased to fall, each grain began multiplying, forming a solid, white plain beneath his feet. A low, deep rumble increased to a roar as nothingness’ protest was added to the creation’s harmony. The disturbances of his handiwork spread causing divine eternals to rejoice. Finally, the unique new world grew still; the sky turned from black to blue; a sun and three moons appeared in the heavens accompanied by silvery rings of dust tuned to the light of the planet’s star. The first morning’s music sang out of the dust rings. The first wind swept across the salt scattering glistening grains of salt. Then the light of stars from the ancient universe swept past his solar system, defining his world’s night skies with antiquity’s constellations. Hytrae was born.
He looked across the vastness separating his creation from the world where he had come into existence. Isabelle Lang’s soul stirred. She knew the author of that touch. Patience Izzi, I’ve traded my world for time with you. His words less than a whisper in her mind warmed her heart and she knew he had kept the promise he had made just before his execution. If all I believe is true about life after death and all things are possible I will find a way to return to you.
#Introrse#R.H. Martin#Science Fiction