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This most astonishing of tales begins when space and time were just a fleeting reverie within forgotten nothingness

So what befell that divine serenity to give way to such fanciful and painfully elaborate chaos?

We piece together this tale from the runes of a language still in its infancy

You’d be forgiven to think this is the tale of reality itself

Though hear the withering echo of the universe laughing at this archaic notion, in the primordial forces and primeval whispers that reverberate through the nethermost dominions of the universe

The irony, that this is a tale nothing and no one really understands or believes

Yet, by simply existing, everything and everyone affirms the absurdities it chronicles

This tale

Engraved on your genes

Suspended in beams of light

Interwoven in the very fabric of existence

This is the tale of how it all came to be

And how it will be

This is a tale the universe has read

To every young atom and every nascent galaxy

To all of matter and all energy

To all that is luminous and measurable and all that is dark and unknowable

To all that has awoken to sentience and all that is still in slumber

And to anyone and anything that has ever existed

Or will exist

This tale, written in ink dried painstakingly by each flap of the humble wings of the butterfly

With no protagonist too insignificant, no antagonist too unformidable

From infinitesimally small subatomic wonders that are uncontainable

To unimaginable supermassive giants that are inescapable

From the most wondrously brightest

To the most disturbingly darkest

And everything in between

Behold if you can trust your senses, the only shared heritage of everything that has ever existed

Or will exist

But can you believe even the most trusted when they tell you

That out of nothing comes all of space and time itself?

Reality, you see, is far stranger than all fiction

When out of nothing comes everything