In the beginning, there is darkness.
This is how most stories should start; in the ethereal blackness of space, and of nothingness.
Here, in a senseless void, we can gain a deep understanding of the primal state. We must put this condition in our memories, so that in moments of duress we may call upon this memory and know that in the beginning, there was only emptiness.
Not even a feeling of loss or melancholy, for these feelings have not yet been discovered in this place. No shattered dreams or reminisces, for we have not yet had the time to experience anything.
Upon the staring face of this eternal night, let there be light.
Just a pinprick at first. This is birth, as we would dictate it. No sudden explosion of chaotic sound and color to traumatize our newborn senses. Here, we are in control. Just the tiniest point of light, glowing faintly in the distance, like a star. The light is so indistinct, so dim, that we are not really certain if it is there.
It begins to grow. Slowly at first, then gaining more volume over time. Mild enough that we are not blinded by its majesty. No, we become aware of the light and its power under our own terms, for we are here to master not only ourselves but also the universe we will be birthed into.
The light fills our field of vision, suffusing our reality with a beautiful golden glow within which we may bask. A radiance that comes from all points and enters us completely. This is our light, what we have created.
It is now that we understand and accept warmth. The light heats us, and we realize that the dark and empty place we have just come from was intolerably cold, yet we did not feel it at the time.
The light is at once a gift and a curse. It shows us one path while illustrating the folly of the past. We begin to see the light as a guide. Though it is mindless itself, it came from the mind, and in so doing must have purpose. We entwine ourselves in the contemplation of this purpose, and on occasion shiver with the recollection of the void from which we have come.