The Big Bang never really happened, not at any particular time. It is happening now, and always has been. It stands outside of time, by its very definition a singularity. It is the soure of creation, the cosmic egg, the center of the universe. We are seeing the universe inside out, and the center appears to surround us. We are looking down the well of space to the glowing waters of creation below.

The union of all beings in Nirvana has always existed and always will. Working ceaselessly toward that union strengthens the threads that still bind us to the source of being.

All possible universes intersect at one point where the universal mind eternally pours forth new forms to enrich the sphere of consciousness.

In this particular manifestation of creation, the creatrix has shattered herself into uncountable billions of nearly infinitesimal shards to see what happens as they all attempt to find one another, her children like stranded starfish groping for a remembered ocean.

The fragments glitter in the cold darkness like ice crystals forming at the edge of space, abhorring the vacuum. The atoms dance with desire, each fulfillment only temporary. Satisfaction and restlessness take their turns as forms arise and then dissolve.

She has given herself thus, knowing she will not reawaken until all the pieces come together. Then she will remember who she is, will reflect upon all that happened on the way to reweaving herself, and she will do it again. Hers is the peace and security of knowing all, and knowing there can be no death, and hers is the primordial loneliness that drives her to explode.

O Nuit, continuous one of heaven, let it ever be thus: That men speak not of thee as one, but as none; and let them speak not of thee at all, since thous art continuous!