Beside the edge, I found the thread, woven in time’s endless bed. I pulled at it gently and watched the stars die. Little did I see that the end was nigh. I pulled harder, and planets exploded, the sun’s shine was no more. The thread was tied to a seed planted eons ago. Left unattended, the seed did not grow. Around it, realities and endless stars were woven. But the seed, the moment, the beginning, was ignored—dying, dead, ignored by man’s word.
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