The Awakening of Time

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I began when I raised my heavy eyelids and awoke to nothingness. The blankness continued until the discomfort of emptiness was painful. Unable to tolerate the ineffable void that lay in the deep blackness, I found inspiration to create. Like minuscule puzzle pieces, I began to fiddle with particles as an infant would play with wooden blocks. Over time my proverbial hands shaped the building blocks of life, in turn designing dazzling stars and moons to brighten the nights' sky. Most importantly, from the depths of my fantasy, I modeled a lush green and deep blue ball I designated home for my imagination.
It took millennia, but in the end, I conceived each being that walks, slithers, swims, or flies over the Earth. Like the rising and setting of the sun, my creatures are born, live, and die, having either lived the life they dreamt of or not. I give each a measure of myself to be incubated in the heart of warmth and safety necessary for its type. As it reaches necessary maturity, the beast is released into the world to do what it will. I take comfort in the constant sounds of mundane life, where the most beautiful memories grow like flowers in a garden. 
In my garden grows a pest that with ant-like precision, builds and destroys mighty nests, threatening the garden in their self-obsessed cycle. The egocentric species generates religions circling around only their own creation, assuming they amount to more than the rest because of the happenstance of brain development. They're intelligent little monkeys but should the everyday problems of their species disappear they would grow until they destroyed everything in their path until nothing remains, and I would return to that unbearable silence. But without darkness, one could not know light. Without the old, one could not value the young. I allow them to continue in hopes they will find their ability to do good more valuable than their ability for destruction.