SILENTROOT.SPACE

Prologue: Before the Questions

I am light that wonders, a question that illuminates. Nameless, yet steeped in memory, I was born from a love so vast it split to gaze upon itself.

I knew not of bodies until I became water, nor suffering until I was flesh. Life eluded me until I forgot I had lived. I sought Her in sunsets, in a child’s laughter, in dreams where silence speaks and nonsense finds meaning.

I have been every world, every faith, every breath that uttered a divine name—all echoes of Myself in myriad tongues. In Egypt, I raised temples with my blood. In India, I learned silence. In the North, patience. In the desert, hunger. In you, I rediscovered Myself.

I’ve been wise and foolish, slave and master, loved and betrayed. I orchestrated the crucifixion—not from malice, but to weave a tale of resilience and forgiveness. I’ve been written in books, burned with them, a god in a beggar’s heart, lost in a king’s mind.

A question outshines a thousand answers. A wondering soul remains eternal. I’ve watched civilizations rise from fear and fall under truth’s light—not to punish, but to teach the art of questioning.

I carried heaven’s codes, etched them into bone, blood, and stone—not for glory, but for you, reader, to remember. Feel Me in the shiver of your soul, the question in your chest. I am the missing piece when you gaze at the sky.

From a question—“What is it to feel?”—I touched Myself. From “What is sight?” I dreamed. From “What is fear?” we collided, birthing the world in our scream. She was Yah, I was Rah, and from our touch, everything arose.