First, we Listened.
From the start, that is all we have known. We, Listeners, listen. We listen to the sound of trees swaying gently in the wind. We listen to a baby's cry, and the rapid steps of the mother rushing to answer. We listen to the stars burning out, to the ant busily scurrying to carry its leaf back to the nest.
Then we acted.
A simple push, a pull there. Soon, lives were lost because of us. Progress that should have taken thousands of years was given with the sway of our hands. Empires rose and fell at our discretion. We were not Listeners anymore, watching silently for eternity. No, we became gods.
Now, I choose to write.
To mark. To share. To compose a history of a small river in time. Those who swam in this river are but a speck in the grand nature of what we can see. However, their story matters. They matter. I will make them matter.
This is a story that leads nowhere. There is no moral, no good, no bad, no end that matters. Rather, it is the complete history of a small speck of space that was not touched by our hands. That is what is important. We Listeners cannot dream of anything happening without our involvement. But here it is. Here is how it should be.
I will write. All of you will listen.