Eternity is such a long word. Since time immemorial, people have been casually saying for "eternity" and yet, their eternity is nowhere near my eternity. Somewhere in the near future, someone is going to postulate that everything is relative. Time is relative. Motion is relative. Energy is relative. Even the very definition of beauty will be relative. For the purpose of this exercise, let us just assume the theory of relativity. My eternity however, is far longer than any eternity imaginable.
Before the very concept of time is thought of, my existence has always been here. To what purpose, I still cannot fathom. It is just that my very existence is to come up with this silly produce which the winds, the stars and the soil promises that will surely change this place, this land and this earth.
They say that I will be the harbinger of change. With this silly produce, everything will change. History is not yet written, but when the time comes, this will be the same produce that will shape civilizations.
Truth be said, this produce is quite difficult to bear. This produce, I was promised will free me from the monotony of neither light nor darkness. This produce, so I was assured will be the bedrock of religions, philosophy, and way of life, maxims and even learning.
Literatures, doctrines and debates will be written because of this produce. Blood will be shed, in honor and for the glory of what is yet come. I couldn't wait for the conflicting versions. Fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, cousins against cousins are going to shed blood just for the right to interpret what is surely to transpire here today.
Eternity is nothing, I am going to stretch it a hundredfold and what is eternity now, will just seem like a piece of sand in a vast ocean of desert. Just you wait; this produce will change everything. The trouble with this produce is that in producing it is sucking my life-giving juices. From the distance, my appearance is starting to resemble a withering tree. But I am not withered. No sir, I am nowhere near withering. I am robust and without the burden of this single fruit, I could be a magnificent tree worthy of awe and worship.
But wait, what is this clumsy woman doing? She is climbing my branches as if trying to seek refuge. Doesn't she know that she is interrupting with my endeavor in trying to produce this fruit? And what is that creature hovering in my top branches. I am getting aggravated if they do not stop, I might just drop this burdensome fruit and start all over again. Eternity as they say is long duration to repeat and I will surely not going to repeat this tedious process.
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Everything is just a blur now. At one moment, Sylvia was running. She was being chased, something and someone was after her. A tree over the horizon offered a respite from this seeming deadly race. But just what is over the horizon?
There was a heavy breathing coming both from the prey and the predator. And both of them are on the same tree. The terror that was very real for Sylvia though this purges her of all her recollection.
What Sylvia now remembers is that after a long run, she was finally caught. Similar to the scene of waking up, recalling the actual scene preceding her consciousness is now impossible. Though, she is able to recall that there was a chase, there was a tree, and to make everything dreadful was the thought and sensation of being caught. From all initial indications, she lost her consciousness but now, after regaining her senses it seems that she was just having a nightmare. Everything was just a silly dream. The feeling of terror was just a dream; the feeling of being pursued and being caught was just a product of imagination.
Her pursuer, though she cannot anymore recall what it looks like is similar to a hazy thought. You know that it is there, it exist, you just cannot place your perception and literally describe the sensation anymore than to prove or disprove its existence.
Sylvia is now about to escape from this slumber when she noticed and recalled that previously, she was sleeping beside Adam. Just like the previous day preceding this nightmare, Adam was exploring the other side of this garden.
She was not feeling well and Adam left her all by herself. Her memory is still hazy, it seems that the dream (or was it a nightmare?) was more real than the reality that is now intruding and insisting for her consciousness. Adam was up and about and from what her ears were telling her was thanking her about the fruit that was previously beside her.
It had an unusual taste and yet it was a welcome deviation from all the other fruits that they have been eating, he said. Adam is now thanking her though he addresses her by a different name.
It seems that in this consciousness, she goes by the name of Eve.
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