I created the stars, but regretted it instantly. Father told me not to create matter, so as not to upset the universal balance of nothingness. Father said, To create anything is not only superfluous but painfully misleading and will only lead to needless suffering.
I did not go to Father, but to Mother, Mother of Eternal Night. She said she forgave me for creating the stars and if I created nothing more, then no great harm would come to the universe. But I got older, and whoever created Boredom was the true culprit of disharmony for I couldn’t help myself when I gave into my impulses and created planets and moons.
It was then that Father sought me out to destroy me, for he knew where all this was going and he was right too; I was creating in order to amuse myself, not out of any virtuous principles whatsoever.
I did not want to die again like I had so many times before. Whenever Father got the notion in his head that I was being a disobedient son, he would kill me and I would have to go through the obnoxious process of being reborn, a process I can’t describe here because there is no language to describe it. I hid on the third planet I created and there was nothing but rock and thick vapors. Father is so confused by material manifestations; I knew he wouldn’t find me on this planet. In hiding, I began to create all kinds of things and quite by accident created Life, that is, I created Time, the very thing Father most feared I would bring into existence.
Father was really too old to be Nothingness, but he somehow held on to his position. In fact, his powers have somehow expanded even greater than in his youth, for now he is the all-encompassing Abyss. He is now everything that is truly important. So much so, that he doesn’t seek me out any longer, he is far past worrying about my silly habit of creating.
And now I have created all this life, and I am remorseful because the poor living entities were somehow—from my sloppy alchemy—imbued with Purpose and Hope; they suffer in such a way that I will never be able to comprehend. But if I could find a way to communicate with them, if I could just find a way to understand their language, I would like to tell them to be happy because I know for a fact that their energy force will not last very long, therefore their suffering is short lived, for soon Father will wipe out all my creations and it will be as if they had never existed.
Contributor’s Notes: Louis Bourgeois is the Executive Director of VOX PRESS, a 501(c)3 arts organization located in Oxford, Mississippi.