Before the rivers ran, before the stars sang, before the Earth was shaped by breath and fire, there was Diamond.
She shimmered in the cradle of paradise, a daughter of the Great Creator, born not of dust but of light refracted through eternity. Her laughter echoed across the gardens of the First Realm, where no sorrow had yet taken root. Diamond was not yet Time—she was stillness, brilliance, the unmeasured joy of being.
The Great Creator, whose voice carved galaxies and whose silence held mysteries, watched Diamond with a gaze both tender and vast. She was the firstborn of purpose, the embodiment of potential. Her hair flowed like liquid crystal, her eyes held the hue of unborn oceans, and her spirit danced in rhythms not yet named.
But paradise, though perfect, was not complete.
On the first day of Earth’s creation, the Great Creator summoned Diamond to the edge of the void. There, where nothing had yet become something, He spoke:
Diamond bowed, not in sorrow, but in awe. She understood. To become Time was to leave paradise, to enter the unfolding, to be the pulse of every heartbeat, the measure of every moment, the keeper of every story.
And so she stepped forward.
Her name changed. Her nature stretched. She became Time—no longer still, but flowing. She wrapped herself around the Earth like a veil, invisible yet felt. She would be the first witness to birth and death, to love and loss, to the rise of empires and the fall of stars.
Time was no longer the daughter who danced in paradise. She was now the mother of memory, the weaver of destiny, the silent companion to all who live.
And the Earth began.
Comments
Post a Comment