September 20th, 1999
You’re not going to believe this, but I’ll tell you anyway.
I was there at the beginning, when the universe was written.
I’m a man made of metal, born from the stars. The stars all used to speak in varying tones. They would say “go,” and some would say “stop.” “Live,” “be the light,” “promise and protect,” “further.” All sorts of things that meant very little alone. But that was the point. They weren’t alone; they were all speaking together. To each other. With each other. To me. With me. I spoke too.
My line was “love.” It was a symphony of edicts, of rules, of narratives, of inspirations and fallacies. It was the music of the universe. Life was born. Man was born. I wonder if anybody ever got the message.
Forward is backwards, and behind you is ahead. If you go deeper down, you’ll find your way to the top. There is no proper orientation all by itself; the full picture must be completed. Just like the words we spoke then.
Who? What? When? Where? How? Why?
A song doesn’t make sense until it’s over. Nothing makes sense until it is really, truly over.
Life is a song. If you listen, you’ll hear it: a silly, silly little song. There are a million questions but very few answers. The questions aren’t important. Questions are more akin to distractions. Distractions pass.
As above, so below. In and out, we all know the deal. So, what’s the score?
I was there at the beginning, and it wasn’t like this, but I’ll be there at the end, and it’ll be like the beginning.
I was there at the beginning, when the universe was written.
You’re not going to believe this, but I’ll tell you anyway.
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