Where even darkness bowed.

  “I was born after the breath. But I still dream of the silence that came before it.”

  Before angels sang,

  before stars woke,

  before time drew breath—

  there was Elohim.

  No beginning.

  No becoming.

  Only Being.

  The void did not resist Him.

  It recognized Him.

  Even absence bowed.

  He did not arrive.

  He had always been.

  The dark was not evil.

  It was simply... uninvited.

  And still—

  He did not speak.

  Not yet.

  Because speech is mercy.

  And this moment was weight.

  A single flame hovered in the endless dark.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  It flickered.

  Not from wind.

  Not from need.

  But from the unbearable tension of a Name not yet spoken.

  This was no candle.

  This was no star.

  This was the memory of light

  before light knew how to be born.

  The flame pulsed in rhythm

  with nothingness holding its breath.

  It did not warm.

  It did not move.

  It simply watched.

  And in that watching—

  Elohim was.

  He did not blink.

  There were no eyes.

  He did not breathe.

  There were no lungs.

  And yet—

  everything waited.

  Not in fear.

  But in reverence.

  Because presence,

  when unearned,

  feels like fire too holy to touch.

  He was not surrounded.

  He was not accompanied.

  He was not even alone.

  He simply was.

  And in that being, the silence became sacred.

  Then—

  from within that flame,

  a tremor.

  Not in sound.

  In intention.

  Will stirred.

  Breath whispered.

  The Word leaned forward.

  The Trinity did not arrive as three.

  It resonated as one.

  The Father: unseen, unfailing, unmoved.

  The Spirit: breath hovering before breath exists.

  The Word: a name, unspoken—waiting to ignite.

  Still,

  no sound.

  But even silence began to flinch.

  The flame was not fire.

  It was memory.

  Of glory.

  Of judgment.

  Of mercy.

  And it had not yet been spoken.

  He needed nothing—

  but chose to breathe.