I have no recollection of writing this, it is just a thing that exists in the scraps folder on my one drive. I know I wrote it but not when or why. Sometimes my mind is delightful… Others… Well, I worry about me sometimes.

It watches… 

It would be wrong to say it is waiting. Waiting would imply it was waiting for something. That it desires something. Desire is an emotion, wanting is an emotion. Emotions are not something it experiences. To have emotions requires a frame of reference. An emotion is a reaction, it does not react, it does not desire, it does not want… 

It does however hunger, though what it hungers for it could not describe, and could not be described by any frame of reference you could understand.  

How could you, a child of the universe, understand what it hungers for. What could you relate to a thing that lays beyond your universe. Beyond any universe. A thing of the void that was there before the universe was born. The void that will be left when the universe finally collapses in on itself into the absolute entropy of heat death.  

How could you even envision it.  

How could it envision you…  

It watches, as it has always watched, since the vital spark of existence gave birth to the very universe in which you exist. It watches from beyond infinity, as infinity expands ever outwards, but is never closer… 

Distance, is of the universe, not that which lays beyond. It is as close as a whisper and as far as darkness. It watches even now, watches in the eternity between seconds. Time has no meaning to it, for time too is of the universe. A function of gravity, of matter… 

But it hungers, it hungers not to be an abstraction, a thing of the void, a thing outside of time, outside of space.  

It hungers as another did once