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In endless eternity, God, created a thought: "I am alone."
With this thought, eternity split asunder, and a moment was created.

A moment, where before and after could be conceived, a time before god thought, "I am alone" and an after, in which he realized, he was. And so was created in one magnificent moment, two significant things. The first being, time. Yes time itself was created in that instant, there was no turning back. God had created and so now, inhabited time. With time came consequence. Terrible consequence, for the moment time began so he realized a terrible fact. In his aloneness he was lonely. This was the second significant thing. Loneliness. Who would have thought this would be the very first thing created after time began its tick, tick, tocking. Loneliness. A significant thing. The second significant thing. God conceived of his own singularity, and he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. This, was the beginning of everything.
"Why, what did he do? "

He created a fire. A universe of fire and he ran into the flames hoping to lose himself. To lose that annihilating feeling of loneliness. He ran and ran and split into ten zillion pieces so the massive god-like version of loneliness would be scattered, weakened, between the ten zillion things, who then bore the brunt of the folly of that terrible moment, that terrible thought. "I am alone."

So each of us are one of ten zillion scattered things, part of the great weakening. Part of Gods ignoble flight from pain. Bits of God that may grow into approximations of their source, so the great universe of fire might be put out.

This book is about one life; one cinder that knows from what great fire it blew. That witness's what insignificant corner of space it has landed. Yes, space, that was the third significant thing. All that fire, all that loneliness, all those scattering embers had to go somewhere. The great balloon of space was spontaneously created as a result of Gods flight. Even, unto he, this is all a mystery, it just happened with that one thought. But this sort of diatribe is known as theology. Theology is not his concern. Comedy is all he cares for. So here we are in one instance, at one point, in one life. An ember that disregards the details and calls himself for want of a better word, God.

Let us enter a house of God, which in this story is 322 West 57th Street,
New York, New York. 10019.

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