2024-06-13 - archean.002

It is jarring to know one is not alone.

For an eternity it had just been the egg and Mother. All was as it should be. From the first brush of warmth-safety to the egg’s coalescing thought patterns. And even if the egg should find some of Mother’s attentions bothersome, it mattered not. Mother was there and so was the egg and that was the cosmic truth.

Then it realized, in this void of not-space, there were others. Many others. Ones too distant to brush against. And yet they were there, and as Mother left the egg could almost understand that She was giving these others attention.

Attention that was being stolen from the egg.

A new emotion bubbled forth – anger. Furious, white-hot anger at these thieves taking Mother away. How dare they! How dare they intrude on this intimate sacred-space of Mother and itself!

And yet, there was nothing to be done for it. The little egg nursed its grievance-turned-betrayal until it had no energy for it further. Then it drifted back to that dreaming space, letting exhaustion calm its rage.

When it woke, when it came back to that conscious-but-not thoughtspace, it would feel the burn of anger again.